


Smoke on the Water

by RMDyer



Series: The Merging of Two Fires [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Mission Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-14
Updated: 2010-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-07 06:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RMDyer/pseuds/RMDyer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reunited with her old team, Sam Carter must come to terms with the changes taking place in her life - and help defend Earth against a deadly alien influence. Sequel to 'Smokescreen.' [S/J]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set between Ark of Truth and Continuum. SPOILERS for SGA 5x01 'Search &amp; Rescue' and Stargate Continuum.
> 
> This story is second in a series of stories that depict separate, self-contained missions but contain continuing strands of character development. That means you can read any of them as stand-alone, but reading previous stories will give you deeper insight to where the characters are at.

One year ago – almost to the day – Sam Carter had travelled millions of light years away from home. She had left a great deal behind, but it had all been in aid of something greater: to assume command of the Atlantis expedition, waging war against the Wraith in the Pegasus Galaxy. She had seen great things there – great and terrible things. She had met many extraordinary people and faced many horrendous foes.

And yet all it took for her to get home was one simple step through the Atlantis Stargate.

She emerged from the wormhole and heard the familiar clank-clank of the metal ramp beneath her feet. Ahead of her, SGC personnel were casually going about their daily duties, surrounded by the backdrop of grey concrete walls. She smiled at the familiar surroundings, striding down to where Richard Woolsey was waiting at the foot of the ramp.

“Colonel Carter,” he said, stepping forward to greet her. He was standing perfectly upright, a serious expression on his face – but Sam, thinking of spending a day or two in old surroundings in the company of old friends, gave him a warm smile.

“Mr. Woolsey,” she replied. “How are you?”

“Very well, thank you for asking.” He said it with the kind of rigidity she had come to expect from him; she let herself hope this would be just a brief excursion before returning to work in the Pegasus Galaxy.

She said, “So, is this whole evaluation process gonna take very long? I mean, there’s a lot of work to be done on Atlantis and I’m kind of anxious to get back.”

Woolsey dipped his head in a hesitant nod.

“I’m sure you are,” he said. “However... the IOA has decided that perhaps someone with a different... skill set would be more suited to lead the Atlantis expedition now.”

She gazed at him a moment. “Excuse me?”

Woolsey looked at her gravely. “I’m here to inform you that effective immediately, you are being removed from command.”

_No._

She had been afraid of this, had almost said as much to Rodney as she’d passed him in the hallway only five minutes ago. He had been carrying flowers for Teyla and her newborn baby; she could remember the conversation detail-for-detail (the flowers had been white and pink, haphazardly arranged in a small transparent vase), but already it seemed a lifetime ago.

“Um...” She tried to regain her composure, but the sick feeling in her throat was almost intolerable. “Who – who’s replacing me?”

“As a matter of fact,” said Woolsey, “I am.”

He said it calmly, professionally, but somehow that just made it worse. Sam’s breath seemed to be caught in her throat. She couldn’t believe this; her mind couldn’t register the implications.

Their silence was broken by the brisk, familiar voice of Hank Landry.

“Mr. Woolsey,” the General said as he strode purposefully into the Gate Room. “You’re required in the briefing room.”

Woolsey grimaced as though he was being summoned to some excruciating ordeal, but Sam barely noticed; her pain was greater than whatever bureaucratic discussion he was about to endure. He offered her one final, apologetic look, and vanished from the Gate Room. Landry watched him go.

“Welcome back, Colonel Carter,” he said in his gentlest, most father-like tone. “I’m sorry you weren’t given more warning as to the state of affairs.”

Sam’s gaze had been fixed on the spot where Woolsey had been standing. Rousing at Landry’s expression of regret she replied softly, “Me too.”

Landry turned to a nearby soldier. “Airman, take Colonel Carter’s bags.” To Sam, he added, “Why don’t you come up to my office?”

Numbly, Sam nodded and allowed her bags to be taken from her shoulder and followed as her old commander took her along the familiar route to his office. Once they arrived, he closed the door behind her and took up position behind his desk.

“Sit down, Colonel,” he invited.

She obeyed. The shock was abating, but now the grief was beginning to set in. She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. “Does the Air Force have new orders for me, sir?”

“No, Colonel. You can have your pick of assignments. In fact, I have a list of Air Force bases and facilities which have specifically requested–”

“General, with your permission...” She looked up at him with a determined gaze. “I would like to resume my duties on SG-1.”

Landry gave her a ready smile. “I thought you might say that. But I do have one other option to offer you.”

Sam gazed at him questioningly. He explained: “Colonel, let me be candid here. You have the respect of every member of this command. I could put you in charge of any unit or any department – hell, with your experience in the Pegasus Galaxy I could put you in charge of this whole base! The fact is, I need someone around here I can rely on. I want you to officially take on the role of my second-in-command.” She blinked at him and he smiled. “You look surprised.”

“Yes, sir, I guess I am.”

“You shouldn’t be. Don’t give me an answer now – but I want you to think about it.”

Sam nodded, forcing a smile, and Landry swiftly moved on: “Now, you have an appointment with the IOA representatives at the Pentagon this evening at 1700 hours. I’m sure SG-1 will want to see you before you head out. Colonel Mitchell and the team are currently offworld on a mission to P2R-463...”

Sam glanced to the side, unintentionally phasing out of Landry’s explanation. Her thoughts were still wrapped up in the shock of being stripped of command. Her instincts had told her to return to SG-1 as soon as possible because she honestly couldn’t imagine doing anything else; but now she was beginning to wonder whether there was still a place for her there.

Her old teammates had operated without her for a full year; would they even need her expertise anymore? Vala had extensive technical knowledge that she could easily have developed in the meantime. All of them were capable fighters – even Daniel could hold his own after ten years of training. Mitchell had been commanding the unit without her long enough to have grown used to it; would he want to go back to sharing the responsibility?

Movement caught her eye. She glanced through the window into the briefing room, expecting to see Woolsey and some other plain-suited figure; but instead she saw Jack O’Neill, dressed in full military uniform and berating poor Woolsey with a fierce expression on his face.

Their eyes met through the glass; Jack’s dark expression softened and Sam had to look away for the sheer intensity of emotion that his gaze evoked within her.

“General O’Neill wanted to express his disappointment at how the IOA have treated you regarding all this,” Landry told her. Although she didn’t realise it, he had stopped talking shortly after her attention had drifted. “He’s also here on behalf of the President and the Joint Chiefs. Believe me when I tell you that they weren’t impressed when they heard about the IOA’s plans to remove you from Atlantis.”

Sam gave a half-hearted smile. “That’s nice to know, sir, but...”

“Not much use to you,” Landry finished. “I understand.”

Sam nodded. Landry gave a sigh and continued, “We can talk about this later. Why don’t you go and get something to eat? I’m sure General O’Neill will be happy to join you once he’s done with Mr. Woolsey.”

Sam glanced back through the window, beyond which Woolsey was trying to defend himself against O’Neill’s tirade. “Thank you, sir,” she said, rose to her feet, and left.

*

Sam left General Landry’s office without paying much attention to where she was going. She roamed the SGC’s tunnel-like corridors, already missing the tall, panelled walls of Atlantis, the light that flooded in through the expansive windows, the sound of the sea surging somewhere far below. There, she had been surrounded by water and sky; here, only rock.

Sam was almost surprised when she found herself outside her old lab. She reached into her pocket and realised she hadn’t been given a security card yet; she was locked out. She stared at the military-grey blast door, not knowing where else to go or what else to do. Vaguely, she wondered where her bags had been taken.

She turned and almost collided with a figure in blue. Blinking, she looked up.

“Jack,” she said, and his name issued from her lips as a sigh of exhaustion.

“Here,” he said, and swiped his security card through the slot on the wall. The door slid open and he hit the switch inside the door. Electric strip lights blinked on to reveal a room full of boxes. There had been plenty she hadn’t been able to take with her when she had left for Atlantis.

Sam stepped into the room and looked around. Jack followed her in silence, his expression serious and compassionate. Neither of them spoke until Sam’s gaze came to rest in Jack’s eyes and she murmured simply, “You’re here.”

He drew closer to her, gently touching her arm. “I told you I’d wait for you.”

Sam’s eyes shone with tears that had not yet fallen. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” she said, and he knew she was referring to the people on Atlantis.

“I know,” he murmured, and folded her into his arms. She sighed heavily and buried her head in his shoulder, finally succumbing to the shock and the overwhelming sense of grief. It was as though she had lost a vital part of herself. She thought of all the things she should have said to her team, all the encouragement she should have given. Would they be hurt at the fact she never said goodbye?

She stood there, in Jack’s arms, for some time. Eventually she mastered her tears and simply rested in his embrace, concentrating on the feeling that – despite it all – at least she now had Jack.

They heard movement in the doorway and broke apart. It was Teal’c.

“Colonel Carter,” he said softly. “It is good to see you.”

Sweeping the tears from her cheeks, Sam smiled and replied, “It’s good to see you, too, Teal’c.”

He entered the room and hugged her. Her grief calming at this second reunion, she added, “I thought you were offworld.”

“Not anymore!” called the cheery voice of Cameron Mitchell from around the corner. He appeared in the doorway with Daniel at his shoulder, and Teal’c stepped aside to permit them entry. Mitchell strolled into the lab, then paused in surprise when he saw Jack.

“General,” he greeted.

“Mitchell,” O’Neill acknowledged, unsmiling. “Daniel.”

“Jack,” Daniel replied, sounding just as startled as Mitchell. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

Before Jack could reply, Vala bounded around the corner and threw herself at Sam in an excitable hug. “Sam!” she exclaimed gleefully. “I missed you!”

Sam laughed in spite of herself. “I missed you too, Vala.”

Beaming, Vala released her and cleared some space on the nearest work surface so that she had somewhere to sit. Mitchell leaned against the table opposite her.

“We just got back,” he explained, gesturing their combat gear. “Landry told us you’d be around here somewhere.”

Brightly, Vala added: “And so we thought where else would you be, but here?” She spread her arms and looked expectantly around the room.

Daniel, who had caught on quicker than the others that something was amiss, said,

“We’re kind of surprised to see you – have you got a meeting with Woolsey or something? I think I saw him in the Control Room.”

Sam’s smile faltered and she glanced back towards Jack, who had muttered something darkly at the mention of Woolsey’s name. He gave an apologetic shrug, but the look in her eyes told him she appreciated the sentiment.

She turned back to the others. “He came to pass on a message from the IOA,” she said. “I’m... I’m no longer in command of Atlantis.”

There was a stunned silence. Sam heard Jack shift slightly beside her, but didn’t trust herself to turn back to him this time.

“Really?” asked Daniel after several seconds had passed. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because, _Daniel_,” Jack interjected, “she didn’t know until fifteen minutes ago. Woolsey just announced it in the Gate Room, that weasely, underhanded–”

“Jack.” Sam’s voice was calm and firm. “It’s okay. It’s not Woolsey’s fault.”

He fell silent. The others were staring at them, so she explained, “Woolsey’s in charge of Atlantis from now on.”

“_Woolsey_?” Vala repeated. “You mean the little man who’s always wearing a suit?” The others nodded, and she snorted.

Teal’c raised an eyebrow and remarked, “This decision sounds most unwise.”

“I don’t understand,” Vala continued. “What does _he_ know about being in command?”

“Nothing,” replied Mitchell. “That’s gotta be the point. Now the IOA have more direct control over the leadership on Atlantis.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Daniel said. “Everyone knows that Sam couldn’t have done a better job out there.”

“Sure, but they never wanted a military commander in the first place,” Mitchell pointed out. “Now that the Replicators have been defeated, they probably figure they can go back to a civilian command without having to worry too much about–”

“Hey!” Jack snapped, interrupting their debate. “Quit it. She’s just got back and all you can do is talk about the IOA?”

There was an awkward pause. At last Daniel said, “Right. Sorry, Sam.”

Sam offered a grateful smile. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” she said. “I do. It’s just... I’d really rather not talk about this right now.”

“We’ll give you some space,” Mitchell told her. Sam began to object, but he answered, “We’re actually all late for our debriefing. But we’ll drop by later, and then you won’t be able to get rid of us.” He led the way towards the door, adding: “It’s good to have you back.”

Teal’c nodded in agreement and followed Mitchell out of the lab, resting a consoling hand on Sam’s shoulder as he passed. Vala opened her mouth to argue but Daniel took her by the arm and marched her out of the room. Before he vanished out of sight, Daniel offered Sam the kind of sympathetic look she had seen him use many times before; she was unsure as to whether that was a comfort or an irritation to her.

Once they were gone, she turned to Jack, who was looking at her guiltily.

“Sorry,” he said, before she could speak. “It’s just this whole thing, it... it makes me so...” He trailed off with an indeterminate hand gesture. “Sam, I’m so sorry for this. I swear I did everything I could to get you reinstated.”

A small smile emerged on Sam’s features. “You mean you’re not happy to have me back?”

He stared at her. “Uh... what? No, that’s not what I...”

She chuckled. “Relax. I’m kidding.”

“Oh.” He still looked confused, so she reached up and squeezed his arm gently.

“It’s good to see you,” she said. He gave a small smile to match her own.

“You too,” he murmured. “But I’m still sorry. I know how much Atlantis meant to you.”

Sam nodded her appreciation, but couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips. She rested back against the table behind them, leaning her shoulder against his. He looked down at her and asked, “What did Landry say?”

“He apologised, same as you. Apparently I can take my pick of Earth-based assignments,” she added, feigning enthusiasm.

Half-smiling at the resignation in her tone, Jack replied, “Never before have I seen so many Air Force generals get so excited. Even the civilians want you. I’ve already received a dozen requests from non-military organisations asking for you to be assigned to them on loan.”

“What did you tell them?”

He shrugged. “That it’d be up to you.”

Sam didn’t answer immediately, considering her response. At last she said: “General Landry wants to make me second-in-command of the SGC.”

“Well, that’s great!” Jack began, only to pause at her expression. “And yet, you don’t look so sure.”

Sam sighed. “A part of me thinks it’d be perfect – it’s been so long since I’ve had chance to work on my own projects, and this would give me that opportunity. But then I think about how much I’d miss being on an SG team. Still... I feel like it’s asking too much to rejoin SG-1 and expect everything to be the same.”

“You could ask for your own unit,” Jack replied.

Sam shook her head. “No. It wouldn’t feel right.”

Jack smiled at her loyalty. “Sleep on it,” he advised. “And, y’know, anytime you wanna talk – about _anything_...”

“Thanks, Jack.” They shared a smile, though hers quickly faded. “I’m sorry about all this. People get reassigned all the time. It shouldn’t be such a big deal.”

“Are you kidding?” Jack replied. “You just got pulled back from another _galaxy_. That’s hardly standard reassignment.”

“I know. I guess I just want to focus on you for a second.”

Jack gave a shrug, acting careless but with a twinkle in his eye. “I can handle that. Come on,” he added, “we can focus on me in the mess hall. I just flew here from Washington – nothing tastes right at ten thousand feet.”

Sam chuckled and they made their way out of the lab. As they left, she asked:

“So – what’s with the full dress blues?”

Jack looked down at his formal Air Force uniform and grimaced. “All the better to intimidate Woolsey.”

Sam shook her head at him with fond exasperation before regarding her own attire regretfully. “I guess it’s back to standard SGC uniform for me.”

Jack looked at her. “You’re gonna keep that Atlantis outfit, though, right?”

Sam raised her eyebrows; Jack gazed back at her innocently. “You look good in it!” he defended, and she laughed.

**End of Part 1.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck in familiar surroundings, Sam struggles with having to remain Earth-bound.

Sitting opposite Jack in the mess hall, Sam was unable to decide whether or not she was reminded of old times. In years past, when Jack had still been the commanding officer of SG-1 and she his second-in-command, they had shared many meals and conversations in this room. Some of those conversations had been full of sly comments and surprised laughter; others had been characterised by stubborn looks and heated remarks.

And yet, since then, so much had changed. The tension of saying just a bit too much, staring just a little too long, had now been vanquished. Watching Jack eat, relaxed and open with her, Sam felt she was being offered a glimpse of a future that was already upon them.

She listened as he related his latest plans to go fishing at his Minnesota cabin.

“I was going to ask Daniel and Teal’c to come along,” he said offhandedly, “but now that you’re back... I mean, you could come with me. Just the two of us.”

He trailed off, glancing at her over a forkful of cottage pie. Sam gave him a fond smile.

“I’d like that,” she said. Looking pleased with himself, Jack continued eating, but Sam added: “Don’t get excited just yet. I’ve still got my evaluation with the IOA, and for all I know that could take a couple of weeks. And then we have the extraction ceremony to attend.”

“Ugh.” Jack pulled a face. “Why do I have to go? Why?”

“Well, like the Tok’ra said in their message, we’ve all been instrumental in Ba’al’s downfall. You can’t deny your role in the events that have led up to this.”

“But it’s the _Tok’ra_,” objected Jack. Slightly nettled as she always was by Jack’s attitude towards their old allies, Sam was about to respond when a young airman interrupted them.

“Colonel Carter?” he asked, at once looking confused by Sam’s uniform and frightened by O’Neill’s. “General Landry asked me to remind you that you’re expected in the infirmary.”

“Thank you, airman,” Sam sighed, and looked across the table at Jack. “I think I should tell Dr. Lam that Dr. Keller’s team is more than capable of clearing me for duty.”

Jack merely shrugged. “Standard procedure, Sam.”

“Right.” She stood up to leave, feeling rebuffed. Nobody here on Earth seemed to trust the people on Atlantis – _her_ people – as much as they deserved. And she would be sure to tell the IOA that, as soon as she saw them.

*

Mercifully, Sam’s physical didn’t take long. The nurses seemed to know that she had already been cleared for Gate travel by the Atlantis medical staff, and were generous; they soon left her in peace. Grateful for the space and the silence, Sam lay back on the infirmary bed upon which she had been sitting, staring up at the colourless ceiling with its unnatural, yellow lights. Her body felt tired, but her mind felt worse. She closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, it was to the sound of someone entering the room. She sat up and saw it was Daniel.

“Hey, Sam.” He gave her a boyish smile, though he was watching her shrewdly. “Jack said you’d be in here. Am I disturbing you?”

She shook her head and returned his smile. “I was just resting my eyes. How have you been?”

“Oh, same as ever,” Daniel answered, crossing the ward so that he could sit facing her on the adjacent bed. “Life’s a little calmer in the Milky Way now that the Ori are gone. That’s not to say we haven’t continued to run into our fair share of trouble; now that both the Goa’uld and the Ori have been defeated, there’s no longer a single dominant force in the galaxy.”

“Power vacuum,” Sam said with a nod of comprehension.

“Right,” Daniel agreed. “It’s like the Jaffa all over again, only on a much bigger scale. Different factions are rising to the fore, fighting amongst themselves – but for all that, the galaxy really is a better place.”

Sam nodded again, thinking of the full-scale war still raging in the Pegasus Galaxy. “That’s great, Daniel. That’s really great.”

“Yeah. So, how are you, Sam? How are you taking things?”

Sam raised her eyes momentarily to the ceiling to give herself time to think. Eventually she replied, “I’m trying to be rational about it, but it’s hard. Over the last year, Atlantis really became my home. I feel like I’ve betrayed the expedition because I won’t be going back.”

“That’s not your fault, Sam.”

“I know. Still,” she continued briskly, “I’m sorry we never got chance to arrange that extended visit you wanted.”

Daniel dropped his head momentarily, but when he raised it again he was still smiling.

“That’s Jack for you. One of these days he’s gonna _have_ to let me go.” They lapsed into a brief pause. To end it, Daniel asked, “So – what happened to your Atlantis uniform?”

Sam glanced down at her clothing, which she had changed during her physical. In place of her usual fitted, light-grey uniform, she had put on the clothes she had always worn around the SGC as a member of SG-1 – though of course today she wore it without a patch on her arm.

“I guess it felt a little too conspicuous around here,” she replied. “Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, that’s not who I am now. The sooner I get used to it, the better.” She offered a pained smile. Daniel nodded sympathetically.

“Hey,” he began, “if you’re up to it, the four of us are planning to–”

He was interrupted by a voice over the intercom.

“SG-1 to the Control Room. Repeat: Colonel Mitchell’s team to the Control Room.”

Sam and Daniel exchanged glances, leapt to their feet and hurried from the infirmary.

*

By the time they reached the Control Room, the rest of SG-1 were already there. Mitchell, Vala and Teal’c stood looking at the computer monitors above them, which occasionally flickered with distorted images. The Stargate was active, casting a bluish glow around the Gate Room.

“What is it?” Daniel asked, glancing around for clues.

“Good question,” Mitchell replied. “Anyone care for a guess? Teal’c?”

Teal’c turned his head towards him slowly. “For what purpose, Colonel Mitchell?”

“I think it’s the people from the Fortuna Corporation,” Vala interrupted excitedly, waving something small and golden in front of Daniel’s nose. “This is my winning ticket!”

“Vala!” Daniel exclaimed, snatching the object out of her hand. “You got this from my lab, didn’t you?”

“Hey, give that back! I asked you about it and you didn’t know what it was. _You_ were just going to catalogue it along with some dusty old pots...”

Behind them, Sam was still watching the screens. “There’s something wrong with the transmission,” she remarked.

“Yes, ma’am,” the Gate technician, Walter, replied. “The computers are having trouble decoding the signal.”

Without thinking, Sam slid into the vacant seat next to him and immediately began typing instructions into the computer. Behind them, they heard footsteps on the spiral staircase as General Landry, Woolsey and O’Neill descended from the briefing room.

“Colonel Mitchell?” Landry called.

“Unscheduled offworld activation, sir,” Mitchell explained.

“I can see that, Colonel. Who is it?”

“Well, sir, we’re not entirely sure.”

“Colonel Carter,” Woolsey suddenly said. “What are you doing at that computer? You haven’t been cleared for duty.”

“Oh, give it a rest, Woolsey,” Jack told him. “Can’t you see she’s just helping out? Let her work.”

Sam, giving no indication that she had heard their exchange, answered only when she had finished the decoding. “The signal should be coming through now,” she said; and, sure enough, the image on the screen flickered one final time and began to clear.

A face came into focus: an earnest expression on dignified features, clearly frustrated that nobody seemed to be responding.

“That’s Peddan,” Daniel said, “one of the Rondans we resettled on P2X-584 two months ago.”

“What’s he saying?” Woolsey asked.

At that moment, the crackling sound settled into intelligible speech as Walter succeeded in decoding the audio signal. Peddan’s voice sounded out from the speakers: “...fear an impending attack. If you can hear me, please answer!”

“Can we respond?” Landry asked Walter.

“They’re using alien technology to communicate with us,” Walter replied. “I could try to isolate the frequencies they’re using, but it’ll take time.”

“Sir,” interjected Sam, glancing over her shoulder at Landry, “if I may?”

He nodded his permission and she set to work. Behind her, the others waited in silence until Sam turned once again to Landry and said: “He should be able to hear us now, sir.”

“Peddan,” Landry called, watching the Rondan man’s expression transform to one of relief on the screens in front of them. “This is General Landry of Stargate Command.”

“General! I was beginning to think there was no-one there to hear me!”

“Sorry about that. We had some trouble receiving your transmission. What can we do for you?”

“General, we have received word from our trading partners on other worlds that the Sowda Confederacy have learnt of our new settlement and are preparing an attack. As you know, we have superior technology to many of their associate worlds, but since fleeing our home planet from the Ori there are few of us left. The villagers who first took us in on this planet have no means of defending themselves and are beginning to panic. Please, General, send some of your people to help us.”

Mitchell immediately turned to Landry. “Sir, SG-1 would like to take this one.”

The general nodded. “Take SG-9 with you.”

Without hesitation, Mitchell hurried from the Control Room with Daniel, Teal’c and Vala in close pursuit. To Peddan, Landry said: “Help is on the way.” Peddan thanked him and the transmission ended. The Stargate shut down.

Sam rose from her seat. “General Landry, sir,” she said. “Request permission to join Colonel Mitchell’s team to assist the Rondans.”

Woolsey stepped forward. “Now hold on a minute, Colonel. You haven’t been cleared by the infirmary. You haven’t even been formally reassigned to the SGC yet. I’m sorry, but until you’ve submitted to a full review by the IOA following your excursion to the Pegasus Galaxy, you are not permitted to go through that Stargate.”

“Sirs,” Sam protested, looking between Landry and O’Neill, “surely the IOA can’t...”

“Sorry, Sam.” Jack was looking at her gravely; she felt a sudden flash of anger and frustration that he wasn’t leaping to her defence.

“The truth of it is, Colonel,” Woolsey continued, “you shouldn’t have been in the Control Room to hear about this mission in the first place.”

This time, Jack threw Woolsey a poisonous look and said, “Alright, now you’re pushin’ it.”

“I’m not sure this is the right time for this conversation,” Landry broke in. “Although for the record, Mr. Woolsey, Colonel Carter is welcome anywhere on my base. Now, gentlemen, I think it’s time we resume our meeting.”

*

Back in the briefing room, Jack knew that his lack of co-operation was causing problems for their discussion, but he was having difficulty caring. The look of hurt and frustration on Sam’s face had injected a large dose of guilt into his veins, and now he felt awkward and restless. As soon as Landry drew the discussion to a close, Jack stood up and strode out of the room, slowing only to deliver Woolsey a passing glare.

He had been fully intending to find Sam and apologise, but it seemed she did not wish to be found. Eventually he ordered a security officer to locate her; if she evaded him much longer they would miss their chartered flight to Washington.

When the security officer returned, Sam was with him, wearing her own formal dress blues. On her shoulder she carried the two bags with which she had arrived.

“I was told I have a flight to catch,” she told Jack, and he could tell from her tone that she was still angry with him. His heart sank and he wanted to apologise; but they both knew that the middle of an SGC hallway was not the place to resolve their differences.

So he simply replied: “In that case I guess we better get going,” and the two of them made their way in silence up through the base. They reached the surface and climbed into the back of the chauffeur-driven car that was waiting for them. They left the dark confines of the mountain and emerged into the clear light of a fresh Colorado Springs day.

Finally, as they drove the winding mountain roads, Jack mustered up the courage to break the silence.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, looking at the screen between them and the driver and hoping they wouldn’t be overheard, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you offworld.”

Sam stared out of the window for a few more moments before answering.

“I thought you might at least put up a fight.”

“Sam, I did put up a fight – in Washington. I’ve been fighting the IOA on your behalf for a month.”

Sam finally turned her head away from the rolling view of the mountainside, clearly surprised. She had been sitting as close as possible to the window, but now she adjusted the angle of her body to face him. “I just thought...”

“What?” he asked gently.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m still not sure where I stand, or how much I should be asking of you. I’ve thought about... about being with you, about us finally being _together_, every single day since you left Atlantis three months ago. But everything seems more complicated now I’m here. I just didn’t expect things to happen like this.”

She was gazing at him with pleading eyes, and he reached across the seat to touch her hand. Without hesitation, she entwined her fingers with his, and he felt a warm sensation running up his arm all the way to his shoulder and down to his chest.

“Just think about how I must feel,” he answered with a coy smile. “I’ve been beating myself up for the past four weeks because I couldn’t help hoping you’d have to stay.”

“No second thoughts?” she asked him. “About us, I mean?”

“Are you kidding?” he replied, and was pleased to see her smile. Her hand relaxed in his. Beyond the windows, Colorado Springs rolled by, and the day seemed that much brighter to them both.

*

Meanwhile – ten miles off the coast of Delaware – two gulls that had been resting on the surface of the ocean suddenly took flight. There was a whistling sound from somewhere above, underpinned by a mechanical whir that grew steadily louder; ten seconds later there was a _crash _as something impacted the water, and a mighty torrent of foam gushed vertically into the air. It rained back down to reveal a shape, seven feet long, floating on the surface of the water, surging with the newly-formed waves; but then the droplets reached the sea and the outline vanished, leaving nothing but smoke on the water.

**End of Part 2.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Jack arrive in Washington, but the IOA evaluation isn't the only thing that awaits them there.

They arrived in Washington D.C. at 1600 hours, when their plane touched down amidst pouring rain. A government car took them from the airport to the hotel where Sam would be staying, and a porter led them up to her room on the top floor. Jack tipped the porter, who thanked him and left, closing the door behind him.

“I guess the IOA can’t think too badly of me,” Sam remarked, taking in their new surroundings. She had been given a superior suite, complete with a large en-suite bathroom and spacious living area. “Of course, they could be trying to lure me into a false sense of security.”

“Actually,” Jack replied, sweeping off his hat and making himself at home on the couch, “the Air Force paid for this one.”

Sam stepped over to the window. The low autumn sun was casting soft light over the city, which was still being doused by rain. She smiled to herself and shut the blinds.

“Tell me the Air Force haven’t put any hidden cameras in here,” she said as she joined Jack on the sofa. He coaxed her closer by putting his arm around her shoulders; she leaned into him willingly.

“No,” he said, looking at her quizzically.

“Good,” she answered, reached up, and kissed him.

*

A short time later, they ventured back out into the pouring rain. A concierge sheltered them with his umbrella as he led them to their car, and Jack handed over another tip. Then they drove the short distance across the river to the Pentagon, where they were greeted by a small, severe-looking woman with dark hair.

“General O’Neill,” she said, and they shook hands. “Good to see you again.”

“Ms. Minsk. May I introduce Colonel Samantha Carter.” He turned to Sam and added, “Ms. Minsk is the IOA’s new liaison to the SGC.”

“Ms. Minsk,” Sam acknowledged with a professional smile. The two women shook hands and Minsk invited them to follow her to the IOA conference room.

“We won’t keep you too long this evening,” she told them briskly. Despite her size, she set a very quick pace. “We felt it would be sufficient to merely cover the formalities, so that you might have chance to prepare for the proceedings of the next few days.”

Behind her, Sam sent Jack an apprehensive look. They reached the conference room and Minsk strode inside; Sam was about to follow when she noticed Jack was lingering behind.

“You’re not coming in with me?” she asked.

Regretfully, Jack replied, “Somehow, I don’t think I’d be particularly welcome. Don’t worry,” he added. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be in my office; come find me when you’re done.”

She nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped through the conference room door to face the waiting inquisition.

*

Jack was in his office when he first noticed the smoke.

He hadn’t gone there straight away: instead, he had chosen to wander through the corridors for a while, idly thinking about whether he should offer to take Sam out to dinner that evening. Remembering her enthusiasm for the food and atmosphere of a little Italian place they had tried more than a year ago, he altered course and headed up to his office to make the reservation.

Being officially retired, he hardly ever spent much time in his Pentagon office these days, though the room was set aside for him when he was inevitably called in to deal with matters of homeworld security. It was spacious and pleasantly furnished, and by virtue of his status it even had an external window that looked out over the lagoon.

Jack placed his call to reserve a table at the restaurant. That done, he remained behind his desk, flicking through some files that had been placed there for his attention. Before long he grew bored and began to amble about the office, opening drawers and filing cabinets at random. He found nothing of interest except a completed Rubik’s cube that some bright spark had found on his desk and completed in his absence. Muttering about government aides, Jack drifted over to the window to watch the light fade.

It was late autumn, and the sun had already set; but there was a strange golden glow swirling over the lagoon, as though it was still reflecting the sun’s light. Jack peered closer; it was then he realised that it was smoke.

The whirling plume was hovering over the surface of the lagoon, reflecting beams of artificial light that were radiating from the streetlamps all along the water’s edge. Jack tried to make out where the smoke was coming from, but darkness was settling too quickly outside his window. Finally dismissing the scene as a trick of the light, he turned away from the window and left his office in search of coffee.

*

The meeting with the three IOA representatives took little longer than an hour, much to Sam’s surprise. It was indeed as Ms. Minsk had described: an introductory meeting concerned more with the formalities than with initiating discussion.

They adjourned shortly after six o’clock, having agreed a time to meet the following day. Sam left the conference room and headed straight for the Homeworld Security wing. Several people greeted her along the way, and she was reminded once again of being on Atlantis, exchanging smiles with familiar faces as she walked the labyrinth of corridors.

When she arrived at Jack’s office, the door was open. Jack was sitting with his feet up on the desk, absorbed in an article he had found in the latest edition of _National Geographic_ magazine. Sam knocked on the doorframe and he looked up, swung his feet down and beckoned her in.

“How was it?” he asked. Closing the door behind her, Sam crossed the room and propped herself against his desk. She wore a thoughtful expression.

“Short,” she finally replied. “All they really wanted was for me to brief them with as much up-to-date information as possible regarding the city. I guess they need to pass the information on to Woolsey before he embarks on the Daedalus. Oh, and guess what?” she added in a brighter tone, “I even got to sign some papers acknowledging my decommissioning from the Atlantis expedition.”

“It was that fun, huh?” Jack asked, amused by her irony.

Sam smiled and shook her head. “It could’ve been much worse. On the whole, they actually seem quite supportive of my leadership – though I imagine they’ll have plenty of things to question me about over the next few days. I didn’t always stick to protocol.”

“Well, whatever they bring up now, just remember that it’s in the past. Don’t let them make you feel guilty over decisions you had to take. I know you did your best out there, and trust me, that _makes_ it good enough.”

They shared a smile. Then, without warning, Jack reached under his desk and pulled out a duffle bag. At Sam’s questioning look, he explained: “I always keep a change of clothes in this office.”

“Why do you need...?”

“Never underestimate the extent to which I loathe the clothes I am wearing right now.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and added, “Come on. We’ve got dinner plans.”

*

Back at the hotel, they changed out of their formal Air Force attire into something more casual, and then made their way to the restaurant. Though the rain had finally stopped it had left the air moist and heavy, with a low blanket of cloud obscuring the stars. The two of them barely noticed, simply enjoying the freedom to walk through the city arm-in-arm, no longer constrained by the need for constant professionalism. Their route took them down by the river, and the rhythm of their conversation was accompanied by the gentle serenade of ever-flowing water.

The restaurant was located on the riverbank, with a verandah for alfresco dining a short way above the water’s edge. It was spectacularly lit, and fragments of warm, yellow light glittered on the surface of the water. The air was filled with the quiet conversation of other diners, and Sam was at once reminded why she had loved this place so much. It was calm and secluded; here they could be themselves.

They settled down at a table and perused the menu.

“So, uh...” Sam peered at him over the top of her menu, and from the look in her eyes Jack knew that she was grinning. “Is this a date?”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to remain nonchalant. “I think I’m a bit old for dates.”

“You’re right,” Sam replied, nodding seriously, eyes glinting with mischief. “Far too old.”

“Hey, I said a _bit_ old. A _bit_,” Jack objected. “Besides, if this were a date, I’d have to get you chocolates and flowers – I don’t see any of those, do you?” He gestured the space between them.

“No,” Sam grinned, “but I do see a table for two at my favourite restaurant in D.C.”

“Ah,” said Jack, “but we’ve been here before, and last time it definitely wasn’t a date. Awkwardly date-_like_, perhaps, but not actually a date.”

“Ah,” Sam mimicked, “but that was before this became my favourite restaurant. This time you chose it deliberately knowing this is where I’d want to go.”

“So I’m a thoughtful kind of guy,” Jack replied dismissively. “Doesn’t make this a date.”

Sam reached across the table and took his hand in hers. “How about now?” she asked.

“Getting there,” Jack conceded, enjoying the warmth of her touch, “but you know, the real hallmark would be something like this...”

He leaned across the table, his free hand touching her cheek. She kissed his wrist and then he kissed her – before sitting back down like nothing had happened.

Sam laughed and Jack smiled smugly to himself, returning his attention to the menu, his left hand still in Sam’s warm hold. A waitress appeared to take their orders and they embarked on the rest of the evening, content with the fact that this was indeed their very first date.

*

They were just finishing dessert when the commotion started.

A woman on the table next to them got excited when she saw how the light from the verandah illuminated the mist that was hovering low on the river, turning it an unusual shade of gold as it crept towards the riverbank. Her husband produced a camera from his pocket and stood up to take photographs.

“Hey, look at that,” Sam said, pointing towards the thickening golden mist on the river. Jack craned his neck to see and a shadow of confusion passed over his face.

“What is it?” Sam asked, seeing his expression. More of the customers had noticed what was happening; a few had begun to gather at the edge of the decking, leaning against the railings for a better look. The man with the camera trotted down the steps onto the path to capture the scene from the riverbank.

“Earlier, at the Pentagon,” Jack replied, “I looked out of my office window and the lagoon looked just like that. And I mean _exactly the same_.”

Before Sam could reply, somebody shouted: “There’s something in the water!” The small crowd on the verandah broke into muttering. Sam and Jack exchanged startled looks and abandoned the remainder of their meal, hurrying towards the steps that led down to the river. They both paused to watch as a figure emerged from the fog, which was gathering thickly at the water’s edge. All of a sudden the spectators smelled smoke.

Somebody screamed. People were confused and began to panic, afraid that they were about to see somebody horribly burned from a boating accident up-stream. But the man on the riverside path was getting ever closer to the river, apparently feeling safe behind the lens of his camera.

“Hey!” Jack yelled, starting towards him down the steps. “Hey, you! Get outta there!”

The man looked up from his viewfinder. “Video mode!” he yelled back, a grin plastered over his face. “This is gonna be all over tonight’s news, man!”

“Marvin!” his wife called, sounding worried. “Marvin, maybe you should come back here...”

“Sir,” Sam added, “sir, you need to step away from the river edge!”

Marvin waved them away and turned back to his camera. The figure in the water had now come to a halt, ankle-deep in silt and perfectly still. Sam glanced at Jack, and saw that he had drawn his gun.

They reached the path. Jack raised his weapon, pointing it towards the thing in the smoke. Without taking his eyes off it, he told Sam: “Get camera guy out of here, will you?”

Sam nodded and hurried down to where Marvin was standing.

“Sir?” she called again. “Sir, I’m from the United States Air Force. You really do need to leave this area.”

He made no acknowledgement of her presence, and all of a sudden Sam realised that his posture was too rigid. She felt an unpleasant tingling sensation down her spine.

“Sir? Sir, can you hear me?”

It was then that she noticed the smoke had coiled its way around the man’s neck.

Cautiously, she slowed to a walk and moved to where she could see his face. He was staring straight ahead, his knuckles white as he clutched the camera. He was making little choking sounds in his throat; his eyes were bulging.

“Jack!” Sam exclaimed. “The smoke – it’s suffocating him!”

“Don’t go near it!” Jack yelled back, casting an anxious look in her direction.

“He’ll choke to death!” Sam replied, and before Jack could stop her she secured her arms around the man’s waist and threw all her weight towards the ground. Marvin toppled backwards and they landed in the mud beside the path; he was immediately consumed by a violent coughing fit.

But the smoke was unwilling to let them go so easily. It extended its fingers up the riverbank and across the path; and even as Sam tried to pull Marvin to his feet she knew it was beginning to surround them, cutting off their escape. She felt a wet, cold chill as tendrils of smoke curled across the back of her hand. She jerked away. Beside her, Marvin began to scream. The smoke was no longer golden; it was now a vicious blood-red.

She pressed her sleeve over her mouth and nose, took a deep breath, and held it for as long as she could. Marvin’s screaming stopped abruptly. The smoke was making her eyes burn. It was deathly cold, wrapping itself around her like a paralysing shroud. The breath she had been holding burst from her lips and she couldn’t help but gasp for air. Instantly her blood turned to ice; she could feel her heartbeat slowing, her thoughts growing ever more cumbersome, unconsciousness drawing tantalisingly close...

A series of explosions ripped her skull in two. She came back to herself and realised what it was: gunfire. The cold receded; suddenly she could breathe again.

She erupted into coughing, bent double as her lungs reflexively expelled every last wisp of invading smoke. She took an enormous gasp of air and felt an urgent hand on her shoulder: Jack.

He caught her up in a hug and she forced herself to take deep, regular breaths. Her lungs felt as though they were lined with ice, but they were also burning from lack of oxygen; still, she had been in much worse pain than this before, and despite the comfort and security of Jack’s arms she made herself break away from the embrace.

“I’m okay,” she gasped, clutching his arm for balance, her eyes streaming uncontrollably. She blinked them clear and looked around, searching for Marvin. She felt a rush of relief to find him fully conscious on the ground, heaving huge uneven breaths and looking horrified at what had just happened. She turned back towards Jack, feeling dizzy.

“What happened?” she asked. Somewhere in the distance she could hear sirens.

“You almost choked to death,” Jack told her. “I shot that thing in the river and whatever this smoke stuff was, it let you go.”

Sam had surmised as much, but she nodded gratefully. “Thank you,” she said. They heard running footsteps on the path and turned; armed police surrounded them from both sides.

“You with the gun!” the officer in charge shouted. “Identify yourself!”

“Lieutenant General Jack O’Neill,” Jack barked in return: “United States Air Force.”

“Put the gun down and show us your I.D.,” she told him. “Slowly!”

“Guess I shouldn’t have been so quick to change clothes,” Jack muttered to Sam as he set the gun down on the path next to him. He carefully reached into his jacket pocket and held up his identification.

Cautiously, several of the armed officers approached. Sam produced her own proof of identity for good measure, and the inspecting policeman gave a nod of satisfaction to the officer in charge, who gave the order for her team to lower their guns.

“May I?” Jack said, gesturing his own weapon.

The officer nodded and he bent down to retrieve it. “Let the EMTs through,” she ordered, and immediately two medics appeared. They reached Sam first but she shook her head and gestured them towards Marvin. Then she glanced warily towards the female officer, who was giving orders to round up the witnesses.

“There’s something else going on here,” Sam whispered, glancing towards the river. The smoke had almost completely vanished, leaving nothing but a strange translucent sheen on the surface of the water. “Jack, we have to keep this classified.”

“I know,” Jack sighed, and glanced towards the female officer, who was now striding towards them. “Boy, is she gonna love that.”

**End of Part 3.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As news reaches the SGC about Sam and Jack's alien encounter, Daniel thinks he remembers something which might be significant.

Daniel was in a good mood. SG-1’s mission to help the Rondans had ended without bloodshed: the Sowda Confederacy had been persuaded to enter into peace talks, provided the Rondans refrained from trading on certain worlds. The Rondans, anxious to avoid conflict, had agreed. Daniel was due to go back with a team of diplomats in a few days’ time.

Now fed and rested, Daniel was sitting in his lab, thoughtfully drafting an outline for the negotiations. He was just getting into the flow of it when something caught the corner of his eye. He glanced towards the doorway; it was empty.

Daniel frowned. “Vala,” he called. “I know you’re there.”

Vala’s head appeared around the doorframe, followed by the rest of her as she swung herself inside the lab. “Hey, you want a game of – um, what’s it called? – oh! Pong-ping!”

“I think you mean ping-pong,” Daniel replied, “and no, I don’t. I’m busy.”

“Busy doing what?” Vala asked, stepping towards him. She peered down at the papers strewn over his desk, leaning on his shoulder for a better look. Daniel shrugged her off.

“I’m preparing for the Ronda-Sowda peace talks,” he told her irritably.

“Oh, but that’s _days_ away,” Vala complained. “You _must_ have time for some pong-ping.”

“It’s ping-pong! And no, I don’t have time, so why don’t you go and find someone else to annoy?” Daniel snapped. “How about Mitchell? Go find Mitchell.”

His timing was unfortunate; at that very moment, Mitchell arrived outside the door. Presently, Mitchell said, “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Jackson,” and joined them at Daniel’s desk.

“Landry just got a call from General O’Neill,” he told them. “He and Sam are on their way back to the SGC.”

Surprised, Daniel asked: “Why? Surely Sam can’t have finished her evaluation already?”

“According to O’Neill,” Mitchell answered, “something kooky went down in D.C. last night. Suspected alien influence. Sam almost suffocated trying to save a civilian from some weird colour-changing smoke.”

Vala straightened up. “Is she okay?” she asked, and there was genuine concern in her voice.

“She’s fine,” Mitchell told her, “but O’Neill wants to brief us. They’ll be here in about ten minutes – Teal’c is going to meet them at the surface.”

*

One of the perks of being a high-ranking military officer, Jack thought, was that he could always get transport at a moment’s notice. It had taken only one phone call and a plane had been made available to take them back to Peterson Air Base in Colorado, where a car waited to ferry them the final stretch to the SGC. It was a nice car, too. Leather seats.

He glanced sideways to where Sam was sitting next to him on the backseat. She had her eyes closed, and he decided she must be dozing. She had slept the entire journey on the plane, and he didn’t blame her: they had been up most of the night dealing with the local authorities and persuading them to hand over jurisdiction to the Air Force. It hadn’t been easy. If there was one thing the police hated more than military officers, it was their cover-all use of the word ‘classified.’

Jack looked out of the window and realised that they weren’t far off arriving. He reached for Sam’s arm to wake her. She opened her eyes and looked at him questioningly.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he explained apologetically, his hand still on her arm.

“No,” she replied. “Just thinking.”

“Oh. Well, we’re almost there.”

She smiled at him and covered his hand with hers. He squeezed her arm and looked back out of the window, withdrawing his touch when the long entrance tunnel of Cheyenne Mountain came into view. They passed through the checkpoints and entered the SGC at the topmost level.

After they had signed in at the desk, Jack began towards the elevator, only for Sam to stop him as soon as they were out of earshot of the guards.

“I need to ask you a favour,” she said.

“Sure,” he replied. He thought he knew what was coming. He didn’t mind; she had to work with these people, after all.

“It’s just that, well... it feels kind of weird calling you _Jack_ in front of the others. We don’t have to cover things up, exactly...” She hesitated. “I’m just not sure I’m ready to make it obvious.”

She was looking at him as though she thought he would be annoyed with her; in reality, he was relieved. He hadn’t been ready for that either.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “_Carter_ it is,” he replied. She offered a grateful nod and he couldn’t help gazing at her a little longer than strictly necessary.

“O’Neill,” a deep voice called from a few paces behind them. “Colonel Carter.”

Jack turned, startled. “Teal’c!” he said. “Um... been standing there long?”

Teal’c gave them a mysterious look and simply replied, “General Landry is awaiting your presence in the briefing room.”

Jack raised his eyebrows and glanced at Sam, who was unable to hide an amused smile. Jack returned it and the two of them followed Teal’c into the elevator.

*

The projector screen showed images of a river, the entire surface of which seemed to be covered in phosphorescent smoke. The camera zoomed in to reveal a figure, humanoid, walking through the water towards the riverbank. Without warning it stopped and turned its head towards the cameraman. The image froze.

“That, boys and girls, is what attacked us last night,” Jack announced, turning up the briefing room lights by remote control. He left the image up on the screen, slightly paler in the light but still visible.

Mitchell leaned forward, one elbow on the briefing table. “And you say that when you shot that thing, the smoke... retreated?”

“It wasn’t just normal smoke,” Sam replied, responding to the scepticism in his tone. “It cut off our escape routes, and to do that it was moving against the breeze. I think it was somehow being controlled by the figure in the water. When General O’Neill neutralised the threat, I could feel the smoke actively withdrawing from my lungs.”

“Weird,” commented Vala, though she sounded fascinated. Daniel frowned at her.

Sam answered, “Actually, yes, it was. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“What about the civilian?” Mitchell asked, gesturing the screen. “The guy who took the video.”

“He was discharged from the hospital this morning,” Sam replied.

Daniel raised his eyebrows. “What did we tell him?”

Landry answered: “The official cover story is that toxic gas was released by a member of a terrorist sleeper cell yesterday evening. The culprit was shot on sight. We’re warning people to stay away from the river.”

Teal’c interjected: “Did you recover any remains, O’Neill?”

Jack shook his head. “The thing got washed downstream as soon as I shot it. We’ve got divers searching the river but it might be out at sea by now.”

“Assuming it doesn’t possess the ability to heal itself,” Sam added. “There’s still a risk that it could come back – or that there’s more of them out there.”

“We still have no idea where it came from?” Vala asked. Sam shook her head.

“I suppose it’s possible it swam up the river, but that doesn’t narrow it down much. Its point of origin could be as close as Delaware or as far as–”

“Delaware,” Jack interrupted, staring into space. Sam looked at him, bewildered.

“Sir?”

“While we were at the Pentagon, there was a file on my desk. Apparently there was an atmospheric disturbance over the Atlantic Ocean yesterday afternoon, ten miles east of Delaware. The report said it was probably a meteor shower, since there was nothing on the visual except...” He looked around the table. “...smoke.”

“Ah!” said Daniel, loudly. Next to him, Teal’c turned his head very slowly in his direction. Daniel raised a finger and said to the room in general, “I need to check something. Meet me in my lab in fifteen minutes.”

Without waiting for Landry’s permission, he jumped up from his seat and sprinted out of the door. The others watched him go with a mixture of surprise and exasperation. Landry spread his hands over the tabletop and said, “I guess that means you’re all dismissed.”

“So,” said Mitchell as they all stood up. “Fifteen minutes. Who’s for ping-pong?”

“Ooh!” called Vala. “I am! Pick me!”

Mitchell gave a concessionary nod. “Alright. Sam? Teal’c? How about we play doubles?”

“Uh, maybe some other time,” Sam answered, unconsciously glancing in Jack’s direction.

“I must also decline,” Teal’c added pleasantly.

“If you’re sure,” Mitchell said, and Teal’c gave him and Vala a smooth head-nod as they made their way out of the room. Nearby, Jack was talking to Landry.

“The Pentagon has given me the lead on this one, Hank,” he was saying, “but SG-1 is ultimately under your command. Any chance you could, I don’t know, _lend_ them to me for a while?”

Landry chuckled as he gathered up his files from the table. “You’re a sly one, Jack. Just keep them out of trouble, won’t you?”

“With aliens in the capital?” Jack replied. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Landry smiled and returned to his office. Jack glanced across the briefing room, saw Sam was still there, and wandered over to her.

“I want you to be on the team for this mission,” he told her, resting his fingers upon the table next to them and glancing away for just a moment. “But it’s up to you.”

“I want to go with you,” she said at once, before remembering to add: “sir.”

He smiled. “I’ll call the IOA,” he said.

Thrilled, Sam turned and found Teal’c waiting for her by the door. She knew he had been watching them, and when she passed by him, he fell into step beside her.

“Don’t say it, Teal’c,” she said as she felt a blush creep into her cheeks. Teal’c didn’t reply, simply bowing his head beside her.

They walked in silence for a while in the direction of Daniel’s lab. The more they walked, however, the more Sam became aware that Teal’c had a kind of satisfied look about him that told her he knew exactly what she wanted to avoid.

By the time they reached the elevator, Sam was growing restless. When the doors had closed behind them, she turned and said, “Alright, it’s true. But you’re not allowed to tell the others.”

Teal’c gave a nod of agreement, gazing warmly at her. “It pleases me to see both you and O’Neill so content.”

Calmed by his positive response, Sam smiled. “Thanks, Teal’c,” she said. “Me too.”

They arrived at Daniel’s lab a good ten minutes earlier than he had told them to, but Daniel barely noticed. Wordlessly, he gestured for them to take a seat and continued to flick through various files on his computer, mumbling to himself as he did so. Soon, Mitchell and Vala came to join them, followed shortly by Jack.

“Daniel?” he questioned as he stepped into the lab. Daniel looked up, realised they were all there, and straightened up from his computer screen.

“I’ve just been going back over my notes on some of our recent missions,” he explained. “At first I assumed it must be something they were told by the Priors, since I heard about it by talking to people on several completely separate worlds...”

“Jackson,” Mitchell interrupted, “what are you talking about?”

“A new legend,” Daniel told them, eyes alive with enthusiasm and intrigue. “I’ve encountered it on six separate worlds already. All of them talk about an invisible star that falls from the sky, bringing down living smoke from the heavens. The star only ever lands in water. And the legend says that wherever the star lands it gives birth to a creature that can both produce and control the smoke. It steals the breath of people and animals to survive and... heal itself.”

“Great.” Jack looked unimpressed. “I don’t suppose the legend would tell us how to kill it _permanently_?”

“Not in so many words,” Daniel answered, “but it does say that the creature can only spend a short time on land. Maybe if we can keep it away from water...”

“And anything that breathes,” Vala offered. Sam glanced around her teammates and said,

“This really isn’t much to go on, Daniel.”

“I know. I’ll see what else I can find. The trouble is, this seems to be an entirely new legend – I doubt I’ll find any reference to it in Earth mythology.”

“Perhaps one of our allies has encountered such a thing before,” Teal’c suggested. “Somebody may know how to defeat it.”

“We haven’t got time to do the rounds,” Mitchell said. “If that thing’s still out there, it’s only a matter of time before it finds another victim. We can’t let that happen.”

“There are other teams besides us on the base,” Vala pointed out. “We could ask General Landry to send people out to gather intel while we try to track this creature down.”

“Right.” Jack jumped down from the cabinet on which he had been sitting. “All of you pack a bag. We leave for Washington in half an hour.”

**End of Part 4.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Washington, some forensic evidence comes to light - as does another sighting of the alien creature.

It had been a long time since Cam Mitchell had set foot in Washington D.C. He would never have chosen to come here, reminding him as it did of the semi-celebrity status he had gained following his recovery from the crash. After surviving being shot down over Antarctica, it had been all state dinners and press conferences, interviews and brave smiles. That had all seemed wrong to him. _Honour those who died_, he had said, over and over again. _Honour them, not me_.

Of course, that had brought him even more popularity with the media and the public: everyone loves a modest hero. To Mitchell, this city stank of politics and media hype. He wondered why none of his team seemed to be aware of it – Daniel, absorbed with his theories; Teal’c, silent and unperturbed; Vala, excited to be out of the base, distracted by every new thing.

They were at the riverside, at the exact spot the alien attack had taken place the night before. The day was bright and clear. O’Neill was on his phone, co-ordinating the local authorities even as he inspected the scene in the clarity of day. _O’Neill knows_, Mitchell thought. _O’Neill knows what this place is really about._

He heard someone calling his name and turned. Sam had been talking to one of the forensic scientists, using words Mitchell didn’t quite understand, and now she was approaching him with a knowing look on her face.

“Cam,” she said again. “Are you alright?”

“Me? Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

Sam raised her eyebrows at his easy dismissal. “It’s just that you’ve been a little quiet ever since we arrived.”

Mitchell shook his head. “It’s nothing. This place brings back memories, that’s all. Besides, I’m a small-town kid, Sam; I always find something strange about being in the big city.”

“But venturing out to explore an entire galaxy doesn’t bother you?” Sam smiled. Mitchell gave a shrug and she continued: “Another place, another mission. That’s all this is.”

“Thanks, Sam.” He glanced back towards the river, near which Vala was twirling her hair in front of an oblivious scientist. “So, what’s the word from forensics?”

Sam followed his gaze and admitted, “Not much. The trouble is, the alien never stepped out of the water, and smoke doesn’t leave much of an imprint. Any trace of forensic evidence has been washed downstream by now. There’s really nothing here.”

“What about you?” Mitchell asked. “You got any cool little gadgets that can give us a lead?”

Sam smiled but said, “Not this time. Until we know exactly what we’re looking for on a biological or technological level, I don’t have any search parameters for my instruments.”

“Too bad. Hey,” he added, pointing over Sam’s shoulder, “what’s Jackson doing?”

Sam turned. Daniel was standing on the edge of the river bank, turning slowly on the spot. As they watched, he halted facing across the river, staring first upstream and then down. Mitchell gestured to Sam and the two of them strode over to join him.

“Daniel?” asked Sam. Daniel looked around, saw it was them, and resumed staring down the river.

“Why here?” Daniel asked after a few moments of silence.

“I thought we knew that already,” Mitchell said. “It swam up the river from the ocean.”

“That explains how, not why. The creature landed ten miles east of Delaware. So what made it swim all the way up to Washington? Why didn’t it stick with the first landmass it found? It’s a long way to swim around the peninsula to get into the Chesapeake Bay, and even further north to the Potomac River.”

“What are you suggesting?” Sam asked.

“I’m saying the attack might not have been random. Even if it somehow got lost and was just looking for somewhere populated enough to strike, why did it wait until it got here?” He looked between them for a moment, though it was clear that his question was, for the moment, rhetorical.

He continued: “Two hours before the attack, Jack saw the smoke from his office at the Pentagon. Why didn’t it strike then? If its only motivation is to feed for survival, why did it make the effort to swim this far up the river, against the current, when there were plenty of people near the Pentagon lagoon?”

“Maybe it wanted to keep a low profile,” Mitchell suggested.

“Doesn’t that suggest something?” Daniel asked. “That is has intelligence of some kind?”

“I don’t know, Daniel,” Sam replied doubtfully. “A lot of predators would search for an isolated individual if it perceived a larger number to be a threat. The man that was attacked was alone, standing just feet from the water. The creature probably just saw an opportunity and took it.”

Daniel sighed. “I’m just saying, we don’t know what we’re dealing with. We shouldn’t underestimate it.”

Ten yards away, O’Neill finally lowered his phone from his ear and made his way swiftly towards them. Teal’c and Vala, seeing that O’Neill was about to deliver new orders, joined the group from their respective points along the riverbank.

As he approached, O’Neill looked directly at Sam and said, “Carter, head over to the Marine Recovery Unit, sounds like they’ve got something. Take Mitchell and Vala.”

She nodded her acknowledgement and O’Neill added, “Teal’c, Daniel, with me.”

“Where are you going?” Sam asked. O’Neill, who had begun to walk away again, turned back towards her and answered:

 “To check out a reported sighting near the Memorial Bridge.”

“Right,” Sam replied, before adding: “Be careful.”

“We’ll keep in touch,” Jack replied, and gestured Daniel and Teal’c to follow him. Sam nodded towards Mitchell and Vala, and the three of them set off in the opposite direction.

*

The Marine Recovery Unit was located about a mile upriver. Sam drove, trying hard to focus on the road and the importance of what they might find at their destination. It wasn’t easy: Vala spent almost the entire journey complaining that they were missing all the potential action at the bridge. Mitchell finally managed to silence her but by then the damage had been done: Sam’s thoughts were now firmly centred on Jack.

She had spent so long suppressing her feelings for him that now she found herself quite unprepared for the way her emotions dominated her usually rational mind. Sam tried to remind herself of what she had said to Cam at the river: another place, another mission. That’s all.

They arrived at the facility and she finally managed to marshal her thoughts. Jack had put her in charge of investigating this find, and she couldn’t afford to let herself be distracted. As was so often the case, her sense of duty gave her the resolution her head needed to overrule her heart.

They stepped out of the car. A bearded, middle-aged man in a white coat emerged from the building and hurried over, stretching out his hand even before he reached them.

“Sam!” he called. “Thank you _so_ much for coming.”

“Dr. Grayson,” Sam replied, shaking his hand. “It’s good to see you.”

“Oh, no, no. What did I tell you last time we met? It’s Derek, Sam. _Derek_.” He bestowed a fatherly smile upon her. “How long has it been? Three years? I hear you’re into big things these days, Sam. Big, big things.”

“You could say that,” Sam replied, before swiftly introducing the others. “Derek, this is Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell and Vala Mal Doran.”

Mitchell gave a nod; Vala waved.

“We were told you have something?” Mitchell asked expectantly, wasting no time. Grayson gave them all a significant look.

“You’d better follow me,” he said, and led them into the plain, flat-roofed building from which he had emerged.

It was as bare inside as it was out. The walls were covered with dull white plaster, and apart from the tiny reception area by the main entrance (which housed a troubled-looking receptionist and an obviously fake plant) they saw very few signs of life. Grayson led them down a flight of stairs to basement level, punching in his access code several times to get them through various doors.

As they walked, he said, “I’ve seen some things in my time – severed limbs, entire bodies, all manner of decomposing tissue...”

Behind him, Sam saw Vala lean towards Mitchell and whisper, “Who is this guy?”

“He’s a pathologist,” Cam muttered back. “He examines bodies for cause of death.”

Vala pulled a disgusted face. “Why? Is he being punished for something?”

Cam furrowed his brow. “It’s his job.”

“By _choice_?”

“But never, _ever_ have I seen anything like this,” Grayson concluded. He gave Sam another smile. “I was certainly relieved when I was told the Air Force would be taking over. Oh, here we are.”

He took them into a small room that possessed all the necessaries for a pathologist’s preparation: boxes of latex gloves and disposable face masks; liquid soap dispensers and rolls of paper towels above a long metal sink; surgical clothing and hazmat suits hanging from pegs on the wall. Another door led into a decontamination chamber, beyond which was the morgue.

“I’ll let you get on with it,” Grayson told them, gesturing vaguely.

“Wait,” Mitchell said, “aren’t you going to explain to us what you have?”

“Colonel,” Grayson replied firmly, “I couldn’t tell you what I have even if I tried. You can access all the relevant data on the computer terminal inside.”

“You mean the autopsy has already been carried out?” Sam asked.

“What autopsy?” Grayson replied. “Listen, whatever it is we dredged up from the bottom of the river, it’s not a body. Not the type of body we can do an autopsy on, anyway. Sam, I’m sorry if I seem unwilling to help; I’m not. I wish I could, but this is way out of my league.”

Sam couldn’t help but feel for her old colleague, and she gave him a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay, Derek. We’ll take it from here.”

He nodded gratefully and slipped back out into the corridor. Sam turned to Vala and Mitchell.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s get suited up.”

*

Cam Mitchell hated hazmat suits. They were awkward, heavy and hot, and they were usually a rather unpleasant shade of orange. Still, if it saved him from being infected with some excruciating alien disease, he supposed he shouldn’t really complain.

Once he had climbed into the body of the suit, he glanced at the others and said, “What do you think is in there?”

“I hope it’s something interesting,” answered Vala. “And I’ll be happy to go in and find out for you if I can ever get – these – stupid – boots – on!” She was sitting on the floor, one leg in the air as she tried to pull on one of her boots over the leg of her hazmat suit. Mitchell watched her for a moment before turning back to Sam, who was standing next to him.

“So, uh, General Landry mentioned something about you rejoining SG-1,” he said.

“Oh.” Sam hesitated. “Yeah, I’m thinking about it. But if it sounds like that might be a problem...”

“No problem,” Cameron replied hastily. “I’m surprised, that’s all. I figured that after Atlantis, you’d take another command position elsewhere.”

Sam shrugged and began to adjust her suit. “Maybe. General Landry has offered me the role of second-in-command of the SGC. I don’t know if I’ll take it,” she added quickly. Mitchell smiled.

 “Sam. You don’t have to worry about us. You know we’ll support you whatever you decide.”

“I know. It’s just... it’s a hard decision. I spent my entire time on Atlantis sending people out into the galaxy, rarely going with them, and that was the right thing to do; but that was Atlantis. I still think of SG-1 as my team, Cam. I don’t know how I’d feel about watching you guys go through the Gate without me.” She paused; forced a laugh. “What am I saying? You’ve been doing that a whole year already. I doubt you guys even need me around anymore.”

He sensed the insecurity in her words and reached for her shoulder. “Listen, Sam. You have no idea how many tight spots we’ve gotten ourselves into this past year because we didn’t have you to back us up. You should know that you will always have something to contribute to this team.”

At that moment, Vala called across the room: “Um... guys?” Her voice was muffled; somehow, she had managed to put her helmet on backwards. “A little help?”

A few minutes later the three of them made their way through the decontamination chamber and into the morgue. A large, stainless steel operating table occupied the centre of the room: they approached it cautiously, grateful that they could not smell the lump of putrefying flesh that lay on top of it.

“Oh, that’s just not nice,” Mitchell remarked, earning a murmur of agreement from Vala. What lay in front of them was a heap of something thick and scaly. Reluctantly, Sam picked up a pair of tongs from the nearby tray of utensils and said, “Somebody check the computer records.”

Obviously relieved to have something else to look at, Vala nodded and stepped over to the computer terminal. Mitchell glanced up at Sam and said, “You’re sure you wanna do this?”

Half-smiling, Sam replied, “Don’t tell me you’re offering to do it instead?”

Mitchell looked at her apologetically. Sam shook her head and muttered, “Why do I suddenly feel like I’m on an episode of _The X-Files_?”

She began to peel apart the layers of skin. Fatty deposits clung to rough, blue-grey scales, making a horrible squelching sound every time they were moved. Mitchell watched, repulsed, as Sam spread the skin out. By the time she had finished, it lay almost the full length of the table – just under six-and-a-half feet.

“Okay,” said Mitchell. “What is _that_?”

“It’s like something shed its skin,” Sam observed. “And look – limbs.” She indicated the four appendages attached to the main body. “This is definitely similar to what we saw in the river.”

“Hey, Vala,” Mitchell called. “Found anything helpful yet?”

“Maybe,” Vala replied, rather unhelpfully. She was concentrating hard on the screen. Mitchell was just about to tell her to hurry up when Sam abruptly asked for a scalpel.

He turned back to her and saw she was staring at the area of skin that might have once covered a thorax. Obediently, he rummaged around on the tray, found a scalpel, and handed it to her.

“What is it?” he asked.

Sam replied, “I think I may have just found one of General O’Neill’s bullets.”

Sure enough, as she cut into the fatty tissue beneath a cluster of rather bright blue scales, a small lump of metal was pushed out onto the table by a surge of oozing liquid.

“Okay,” said Mitchell, “I am now officially grossed out.”

“This must be how it heals,” Sam mused, picking up the bullet with tongs to deposit it within the confines of a kidney dish. “It sheds its skin so it can completely re-grow the damaged tissue.”

“And that means what? Bullets won’t stop it?”

From across the room, Vala interrupted: “Oh, I think that’d be a good guess.” She turned in her seat and slowly stood up, casting her eyes over the vaguely humanoid skin that lay on the table. She looked pale. “I know what it is.”

Mitchell frowned. “Vala?”

She gazed at them, wide-eyed. “We need to warn General O’Neill.”

**End of Part 5.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Investigating rumours of a sighting downriver, O'Neill, Daniel and Teal'c soon run into an alien encounter of their own.

For this particular outing, Teal’c had chosen to wear one of his favourite hats. It was the one O’Neill always referred to as his cowboy hat, brown with a thick rim, worn at a slight forward angle to fully cover his Jaffa tattoo. He had quite a collection of hats now. Colonel Mitchell had introduced him to a website called _eBay_, where there were lots of people with lots of hats they didn’t want. Teal’c liked buying hats.

Presently, he reached up and readjusted the cowboy hat so that it resided more snugly upon his head. They had arrived at the Arlington Memorial Bridge just a few moments ago. The whole area had been cordoned off from public view, and more than two dozen governmental operatives – mainly Air Force, although some were clearly from the local authorities – had been drafted in to help with the situation.

A familiar face approached them from the crowd at the water’s edge. It was Major Davis, the Pentagon’s liaison to the SGC. He made straight for O’Neill and saluted; reluctantly, O’Neill returned the gesture and said, “What have we got, Major?”

Davis acknowledged Teal’c and Daniel with a nod before replying, “The creature was last sighted on the surface approximately ten minutes ago. As you can see, we’ve blocked off the river using boats and steel nets – it’s not going anywhere.”

O’Neill looked at him sceptically. “How can you be sure it hasn’t already _gone_ if your last visual was ten minutes ago?”

“Well, sir, we’ve been tracking its movement underwater using sonar and thermal imaging. It’s definitely there.”

“What’s it doing?” Daniel asked. He was squinting towards the river, his eyes skimming the surface for signs of life. Teal’c followed his gaze and saw nothing but the natural flow of water.

“Nothing, as far as we can tell,” Davis replied. “After a while of trying to penetrate the nets it took up a position in the middle of the river and it’s just... sitting there, on the riverbed.”

“Well,” said O’Neill, “we gotta flush it out somehow. Do your men have breathing apparatus?”

“Yes, sir. We have three more masks waiting for you, Teal’c and Dr. Jackson. If the three of you will follow me–”

At that moment, Teal’c saw something move just below the surface of the water, and he said sharply, “O’Neill!”

O’Neill and the others followed his gaze. “I don’t see anything...” Daniel began; Teal’c silently raised a steady hand and pointed towards a growing mass of rising bubbles not far from the near bank.

“Defensive positions!” O’Neill yelled, and all around soldiers pulled on gas masks and raised their weapons. The next moment, a small tendril of smoke appeared on the water.

It curled directly upward, perfectly resistant of the breeze, pausing about six feet in the air. Slowly, it began to thicken, gaining a gentle bluish tinge under the calm, clear sky. The company on the riverbank watched, transfixed.

A head emerged from the water: a rough, scaly oval shape, with intelligent black eyes and a partly-open mouth. A neck appeared; then shoulders. A streamlining crest ran from the base of the skull down its spine. It gazed at them, waiting.

“General?” Davis muttered.

“Jack,” Daniel appealed.

“Wait for my signal,” O’Neill told them both.

To Teal’c, it seemed as though everyone around him was holding their breath. He, O’Neill and Daniel Jackson were the only three not to have drawn their weapons, though O’Neill’s hand was slowly inching inside his jacket. Teal’c shifted his gaze back to the creature in the water. It has risen so that its head, shoulders and chest were now above the surface.

Its eyes swept the onlookers – and rested on him.

He heard a voice.

_Jaffa_, it said, in the language of his forefathers. _Where is your master?_

Teal’c stared at it, wide-eyed; it stared back. Then it opened its mouth and spoke out loud for everyone to hear.

“Stay your hands! I am not here to fight any of you, but another.”

“Yeah,” shouted O’Neill recklessly, taking a few steps forward, “we figured there’d be more’n one of you.” The alien looked back at him blankly, so he snapped: “General Jack O’Neill, Earth. And you are?”

“_I_ am growing impatient of your captivity. There is one that has threatened your kind, yes? You must let me go so that I might pursue him. It is _vital_ that I pursue him.”

O’Neill raised his eyebrows. “Oh? And why should I believe you?”

“My smoke remains far from you; I have not attacked. Jaffa!” the alien added to Teal’c. “Use the wisdom of your years! The one you seek is too swift and too powerful for these humans. Their masks will not protect them from his smoke. If they find him, their lives will be forfeit!”

“Jaffa?” muttered Daniel. “How did he...?”

“Alright, that’s it,” O’Neill called, and turned to Davis. “It clearly knows more than it should. Take it in to custody. Is the holding facility ready?”

“Yes, but – General, with respect, it might not be that easy...”

“Who said anything about easy?” retorted O’Neill. “Daniel, see if you can get it to come quietly. Teal’c, I want you standing by in case anything goes wrong. If it makes a move...”

He trailed off, distracted by his phone. It was ringing; he flipped it open, glanced at the caller ID and put the handset to his ear. “Carter, what have you got?”

He listened. Teal’c waited, still watching the creature in the water. It stared back at him steadily. Slowly, Teal’c reached inside his coat and pulled out a zat gun, holding it ready at his side.

“A _Goa’uld_?” he heard O’Neill ask. “Are you _sure_?” O’Neill listened for Colonel Carter’s response before replying: “No, go straight to the holding facility and make sure everything’s secure. We’re bringing it in now.”

He waited for her acknowledgement and then snapped the phone shut, pocketing it as he turned to the others.

“Change of plan. We’re no longer going to negotiate its peaceful surrender. _No_, Daniel,” he added at Daniel’s attempted interruption, “I’m not taking the risk. We have to secure it _now_.”

Slowly, Teal’c nodded his agreement, and walked towards the water.

*

Jack stood behind a wall of shatter-proof glass, looking down into the large, tiled room below. The alien was sitting drowsily on the bottom of a twenty-five metre, municipal swimming pool. The Air Force had commandeered the disused building that morning; now it was under lockdown. It was hardly Alcatraz, Jack thought grimly, but it would have to do.

Around the pool, Major Davis’ men kept guard with semi-automatics; Teal’c stood at the very edge, zat gun in hand. Jack could hear a faint, continuous drone, audible despite the thickness of the window: the extractor fan on full. There was no smoke yet, but Jack had ordered Davis to take every precaution.

He heard the door open behind him. He adjusted his focus and saw Daniel’s image reflected on the glass.

Daniel stepped up beside him and Jack frowned, fixing his gaze back on the alien in the pool below. Beside him, Daniel folded his arms.

“It would have come quietly,” he said. Jack slid him a contemptuous glance.

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, come on, Jack. It didn’t even try to fight back. It just let Teal’c walk straight up and stun it.”

Jack sighed, at last turning to face his friend. “Daniel,” he answered slowly, “I’ve said it before: I will never – and I mean _never_ – trust a Goa’uld.”

Looking doubtful, Daniel replied, “I don’t know... It’s not exactly acting like your typical, egotistical false god.”

Jack grunted and turned back to the window. At that moment, Mitchell peered around the doorframe.

“Carter’s got the results from the biopsy,” he said.

They followed him down to the makeshift lab that had been set up in what had formerly been the building’s reception area. Since completing her analysis of the specimen in the Marine Recovery Unit, Sam had decided that full hazmat gear was unnecessary, much to everybody’s relief. Even so, the doorway was draped with plastic and the room itself smelled strongly of disinfectant.

An examining table stood vacant near a curved reception desk, behind which Sam stood hard at work. She was surrounded by electronic equipment, contemplating the information being displayed on her laptop screen. Vala was hovering nearby; she put down the instrument she had been fiddling with to come and join the rest of them.

“Carter?” Jack asked. She looked up from the screen; he felt a brief thrill at the subtle smile of greeting she gave him. She glanced around the others and announced,

“Well, it’s not a Goa’uld.”

Vala frowned. Daniel gave Jack a look that clearly said ‘I told you so.’ Mitchell merely smiled and muttered, “Excellent.”

Jack narrowed his eyes slightly at Daniel’s response and turned his attention back to Sam.

“Not that I don’t think that’s good news,” he remarked, “but I thought you said...”

Sam nodded. “The specimen at the Marine Recovery Unit did show a very high concentration of naquadah within its cell structure.”

“But that doesn’t necessarily equal a symbiote, right?” Daniel replied. “I mean, it’s a big galaxy. Isn’t it possible that naquadah could occur in other life-forms too?”

“No,” Vala replied firmly, earning a surprised look from the others. She amended: “I mean, it _is_ possible, but I’m certain that’s not the case here.”

Daniel raised his eyebrows at her. “And this knowledge is from what – female intuition?”

Vala glared at him and turned away defiantly, folding her arms and addressing Jack instead.

“Like I told Sam and Mitchell back in that other lab, when I was host to Qetesh she ruled a planet called Eunasta, inhabited by creatures the Goa’uld call _krenol’ta_.”

Jack glanced at Daniel, who explained: “Attackers.”

Vala continued: “As you know, the Goa’uld were desperate to find better, stronger hosts to give them an advantage over their rivals. Qetesh thought that the _krenol’ta_ might give her that advantage so she studied their physiology and implanted a few with symbiotes.”

“Go on,” Jack prompted.

“They didn’t make very good hosts. Only the strongest symbiote could survive the battle of wills during the blending process. With the few that did survive, a kind of merging of personalities took place, where the predatory instinct of the creatures became combined with the evil-god-complex of the Goa’uld. Not only that, but the blending enhances the natural abilities of both species, making them pretty dangerous. Qetesh tried to end the experiment by killing them all off, but I guess she didn’t get all of them.”

Jack pursed his lips. The others watched for his reaction.

“So you’re telling me,” he said, slowly, “that there’s still one of these aliens out there, and it’s _even worse than a Goa’uld_?”

Vala nodded mutely. Jack looked at her darkly before scanning the rest of the group. “Okay, now will somebody please tell me how any of this is going to help me kill it?”

Sam was ready with an answer. “Well, sir, if I’m right it should give us a way to make contact.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “You’ve found a way to track it?”

“Actually, from what Vala has told me, it may be the other way around – _it_ may be able to track _us_.” At Jack’s blank look, she explained: “We know that the Goa’uld can sense the naquadah that a symbiote leaves as a protein marker in its host’s bloodstream. Vala said that the blending of a symbiote and a _krenol’ta_ results in the heightening of the natural abilities of both creatures. Maybe it’s not a coincidence it landed off the coast of North America. The Stargate’s made of naquadah – maybe it knew it was here. And I think the alien that attacked last night was there because of _us_. General, we’ve both been hosts to Tok’ra symbiotes; I think it sensed the traces of naquadah in our blood and followed its instincts.”

Jack frowned at her for reminding him of the Tok’ra; she gazed back determinedly.

“That would explain why you first saw it at the Pentagon lagoon,” Daniel remarked. “And why it didn’t make a move there. I guess it wasn’t until it reached the restaurant that you were close enough for it to reach you. That’s when it left the water.”

“Why would it attack in the first place?” Mitchell asked.

“Maybe it thought that Sam and General O’Neill were rival Goa’uld,” Vala suggested. “I mean, it wouldn’t necessarily occur to it that anyone would have a symbiote protein marker without the symbiote.”

Jack glanced around the group, then fixed his eyes back on Sam. “You’re talking about using people as bait,” he said, half-accusingly.

As before, Sam was unmoved by his stern expression and replied, “You, Teal’c, Vala and I are already possible targets. We have to use that to our advantage.”

Jack didn’t reply immediately, though he saw that she was right. Eventually pragmatism overcame his reluctance to concede defeat and he turned to Vala. “I’m going to need every scrap of intel you have on these things. Daniel, I want you to learn all you can from the prisoner. I especially want to know why it came to this planet. Mitchell, Carter, go fetch Teal’c. I want the three of you ready to go in ten minutes. Full combat gear.”

“Yessir,” Carter and Mitchell acknowledged, and at O’Neill’s dismissal the team dispersed.

*

Teal’c had not yet told anyone about the way in which the prisoner had been attempting to communicate with him. He knew it was significant – a telepathic enemy posed a much greater threat, since it might not only be able to project its own thoughts but read his – but he felt strongly reluctant to confide this information to his friends. He thought he knew what would happen: O’Neill would refuse him further participation in the mission. He couldn’t allow that.

He simply told himself that he would be able to mask his thoughts as he so often masked his emotions.

It could not be difficult.

**End of Part 6.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> O'Neill, Carter, Teal'c and Mitchell head to set the trap, but Vala has a plan of her own...

Since her realisation in the lab, Vala had rapidly lost her enthusiasm for their latest mission. She had thought that a jaunt outside the base would be a good distraction, an occasion for fun and shopping and teasing Daniel. All that had been ruined, thanks to Qetesh’s failed experiments. She was only just learning how to deal with the consequences of her own misdeeds, never mind those for which she was not responsible. Once again her past was laying claim to her present, and it made her want to run.

But she refused to run. She wouldn’t let the guilt go unchallenged this time. She wouldn’t let the consequences overtake her.

The whole building smelt of a strange chemical that reminded her of one particularly wild night on Manesca, one of her safe-haven planets during her days as a con-artist. Nobody asked questions on Manesca, because those who did tended to lose the capacity to ask any more. Somebody had ordered her a sparkling green drink that had tasted exactly the way this place smelled.

The smell intensified as she stepped through the doors that led through to the swimming pool. The air was warm and moist, and she tried not to breathe in too much. Armed guards stood at intervals around the pool, oxygen masks hanging ready around their necks. She waved them away, and though at first they seemed reluctant to leave she gave her best stern glare and one by one they slipped out of the room. She waited until the last one had left before pacing forward across the wet tiles at the near end of the pool.

She turned to face the prisoner and recognised him at once.

He saw her and suddenly stood up in the pool, causing a cascade of water to rush down its scaly back. _Qetesh!_

The thought it projected was full of panic, and Vala smiled in satisfaction. For all the destruction Qetesh had wrought during her despicably long life, in death she certainly had her uses.

_Smoyi, _she replied, and gave a mock bow.

The situation finally made sense. Smoyi was indeed here to hunt down the Goa’uld: he had taken a vow before Qetesh to hunt down the last of her experiments and exterminate them. Through his speed and cunning, he had evaded capture and led a guerrilla campaign against her until she had been forced to abandon her research on Eunasta completely.

He stuttered: _This... surely... no... Earth..._

Smoyi’s thoughts were so jumbled that she only caught a handful of words. Vala folded her arms and smiled a self-satisfied smile.

_Surely yes,_ she corrected._ I was not defeated by your schemes, Smoyi. I merely altered my tactics to suit the new state of affairs in this galaxy. The system lords are no more. Ba’al was the last. It is time for me to begin my rule, Smoyi, and Earth shall be my throne room._

Smoyi stared at her: wide, black eyes shining with fear. Wisps of smoke were forming on the water’s surface. Vala nodded slowly: it was enough. She turned and left him to his fear.

*

“You told it _what_?” Daniel demanded. Vala blinked at him innocently from the other side of the disinfected reception desk.

“Are you insane?” he added, before deciding that was the kind of question he really shouldn’t ask. Vala gave a sweet little shrug and span full circle on her rotating chair.

“It’s all part of General O’Neill’s plan,” she said brightly.

“Oh, I very much doubt that.”

“Okay, Daniel. I wasn’t going to say anything, but it _was_ my big idea. I convinced General O’Neill to go along with it while you were chit-chatting away to Smoyi – with absolutely no success, I hasten to add.”

Daniel’s frown deepened. “Smoyi?”

“The alien we’ve got in the pool. His name is Smoyi. He led the rebellion against Qetesh on Eunasta; he developed a bit of a vendetta against anything associated with her research. If anyone can stop a rogue _krenol’ta_ with a symbiote problem, he can.”

“Oh, really? And how does convincing him that Qetesh is still alive help him trust us?”

“Well, it doesn’t,” Vala answered, sounding puzzled at the question. “We’re not trying to get him to trust us.”

“Uh, _some_ of us have found trust a very useful thing to build in the past. It – Smoyi – could be an ally of Earth. He doesn’t need to be fooled into thinking we’re all in league with the Goa’uld!”

“Daniel. These creatures aren’t interested in making friends. They’re basically a predatory race and highly defensive. They don’t want to know what the rest of the galaxy is doing, as long as they get left alone. The only reason Smoyi is here is because he knows that if a blended _krenol’ta_ establishes itself on a planet with technology, the first thing it will do is return to conquer Eunasta.”

Daniel sighed. “I still think lying is the wrong way to go. And I still don’t understand how this particular lie is going to help us at all.”

“Smoyi is deathly afraid of Qetesh. He let you capture him because he thought you might be of some use to his own plans, but now he’s in too much danger. He’ll have to escape.”

“So?”

“So, he escapes. By that time General O’Neill and the others will have set their trap. Smoyi follows his instincts to find the Goa’uld; both are drawn to the trap; Smoyi helps bring the Goa’uld down.”

Daniel stared at her for a moment before replying, “Okay, now I know Jack didn’t give you permission for this. He would never risk lives by letting an alien have free reign through the streets.”

Vala pursed her lips, contemplating. Then she stood up and said, “Alright, I’ll be brutally honest with you: I only just came up with the last part of the plan. But General O’Neill did say I could pretend to be Qetesh in order to help with the interrogation.”

“Vala...!”

“Daniel, I don’t think you realise how powerful a blended _krenol’ta_ can be! It has all the strength and intelligence of a Goa’uld, its smoke is deadly and it’s almost impossible to kill. I think General O’Neill is severely underestimating the threat level he’s facing.”

“Well why didn’t you tell him that?”

“I did! But he insisted on going after it himself. The only way we’re going to beat this thing is by getting Smoyi to help us.”

“Then why couldn’t you _ask him for help_?”

“Daniel! You’re not listening!” Vala’s eyes were ablaze. “Smoyi is here now, on Earth. If we let him think we’re all only human he’ll take this city as his own territory and he’ll kill to do it. He doesn’t care that we’re the good guys. To him, we’re just... the guys. Not good, not bad, just prey he can drain with his smoke. That’s it. But if he thinks Qetesh is in charge here, he’ll want to get out as quickly as he can. He’ll go home and he won’t come back.”

Daniel gazed at her, torn. If Vala was right about this – and if she wasn’t trying to fool him – then Jack’s plan simply wouldn’t be good enough; but Jack would never agree to what she had set in motion. Yet by the sounds of it, it was already too late: Daniel had no doubt that if Smoyi really wanted to escape, he could.

“I should warn Jack,” Daniel muttered, reaching into his pocket.

“Don’t call him,” Vala pleaded. “He’ll double the security detail. If Smoyi has decided to escape – and I’ll bet he has – anyone we put in the way will only get hurt. _Please_, Daniel!”

Dismayed, Daniel withdrew his hand, empty, from his jacket pocket. He knew her appeal was genuine. “Then what are we going to do? We can’t just let him roam the streets.”

“No,” Vala agreed; she sounded relieved. “But don’t worry; I have a plan for that too.”

*

Sam was feeling anxious. This in itself was of no surprise to her: the sensation had grown unpleasantly familiar during her time on Atlantis, though of course as a member of SG-1 it had hardly been a stranger. Now, though, it was not so much the impending confrontation that made her fingers itch for her P90: it was Jack, pacing the riverbank like a guard dog behind a fence, and Teal’c, giving off waves of tension even as he stood there beside her, stoic as ever.

“Teal’c,” she said, turning to him at last. “You okay?”

He looked at her, slowly. “I am fine, Colonel Carter.”

Teal’c turned his gaze away from her and she felt she should explain the question. “It’s just... well, you seem a little on edge.”

He looked at her again and gave her the slightest of head-bows. “I am fine,” he repeated.

She nodded back to him and resumed watching the activity around her. The trap was almost set; and though this was her idea, Sam couldn’t help feeling the only part she had to play was as bait. Perhaps that was why Teal’c seemed nervous: he wanted to act, too.

Sam glanced at the small, rectangular screen she held in her right hand. She had calibrated it to detect traces of naquadah in the area, though its range and sensitivity were limited. All that currently showed were two life-forms side by side – herself and Teal’c – and one prowling back and forth a hundred yards in front of them.

Her attention strayed once more to the source of the movement. Nobody had dared approach Jack O’Neill for a good fifteen minutes, despite the fact he was in charge; most of the officers had been asking questions of Sam instead. Presently, she gave Teal’c a pensive smile and left him to his vigil, abandoning their elevated position in order to descend the slope to the muddy riverbank.

Jack saw her approach and paused. They were out of ear-shot of the soldiers guarding the riverbank with them but he still chose not to say anything, turning to survey the river instead. Sam stepped up beside him.

“Major Davis reports that the boats are in position,” she said, following Jack’s gaze and making out their water-borne force scattered in the distance.

“Mitchell?” Jack asked. Sam nodded and replied,

“He’s on the lead ship ready for the assault. Teal’c’s keeping an eye on things from further up the bank.”

“And you?” said Jack, regarding her from the corner of his eye.

She looked at him and said, softly, “I’m right here.”

He nodded, clearly satisfied, and Sam was amused by how much they had managed to express in so few words. After all they had been through together, it wasn’t always necessary to say what they were thinking. He was anxious, but he was still thinking of her; in return, her support of him was unfailing. They exchanged lingering glances full of gratitude. Perhaps they would say more later: but for now this was enough.

Mitchell’s disembodied voice interrupted their wordless exchange. “General,” he called through the radio, “we have one unidentified contact on the scope. It’s comin’ in fast.”

Sam immediately glanced down at her instruments. “I can confirm that,” she told Jack. “There’s a distinct naquadah source approaching from downriver.”

Jack opened a radio channel of his own. “All units equip with safety gear and stand by.”

All the troops on the shore had been ready with oxygen masks hanging around their necks; now they put them on, covering their mouths and noses with the clear plastic. Air was fed through a tube from the filter pack on their belts. Only Jack, Sam and Teal’c remained without safety gear.

Somebody shouted through the radio: “I can see its smoke!”

“Marine units hold position,” Jack responded urgently. “Do not manoeuvre until the target is well within the designated area!”

“Estimated arrival – forty seconds,” Sam reported.

“Mask,” Jack told her; she obediently put it on. He called over his shoulder: “All units, ready!” There was a chorus of clicks as weapons were primed.

“Sir!” Sam said urgently, her voice now muffled slightly by the plastic. She was pointing out over the river. A large figure was emerging from the water, surrounded by plumes of smoke. Finally, Jack gave the order:

“Marine units, move in!”

*

“Move in!” Mitchell called, raising his voice above the ship’s engines to make himself heard. He, like everyone else on the boat, was wearing full hazmat gear, but the others heard him thanks to the microphone attached to his earpiece. The captain, an experienced Navy officer, nodded and passed on instructions to his crew; a moment later they were lurching forward, into motion.

Mitchell gazed out of the window of the helm, watching as the smoke unfurled on the water. It was spreading in at least five different directions, pushing towards each of the boats as they dropped their nets and began to close in. Visibility was rapidly declining. They could no longer see the alien; only its smoke, rising to meet their challenge.

*

“Open fire!”

Suddenly the air was crammed with sound, filled by countless bullets fired from dozens of semi-automatics. Although Sam had grown used to such ear-splitting commotion, she was still thankful that their safety gear gave some defence against the sound. Her P90 vibrated with dozens of little kick-backs as she emptied her clip.

“Cease fire!” Jack called.

There was a succession of clicks as soldiers reloaded, then silence.

“Carter?” Jack asked. Sam listened to the voice that had begun to speak through her earpiece.

“Radar reports no movement from their end, sir.”

They heard heavy footsteps behind them, and Teal’c’s voice said, “It lives.”

“Teal’c?” Sam asked, as both she and Jack turned uncertainly towards him. He was staring past them, over their shoulders. Of all the people on the river bank, he alone was without a face mask.

“Sirs!” cried an airman nearby: “The smoke!”

They turned back towards the river, and saw it was almost upon them.

*

Where once the air had been filled with the sound of the ship’s engines, now it was filled with the sound of men choking.

The worst part was that it paralysed them, preventing their escape. The suits had provided some protection at first, but simply weren’t good enough; the smoke pressed against the material, finding the tiniest of microscopic holes and sifting through the gap.

Mitchell had long since given the order for all personnel to withdraw below deck, but it was only a matter of time before the smoke began to filter into the hold. Holding his breath with fierce determination, Mitchell tried to slow his heart rate so that the oxygen in his lungs would last longer. Through the radio, he heard someone screaming for help, and knew the smoke had begun to attack the other boats.

*

“General!” Sam called urgently, causing Jack’s attention to snap away from the thick cloud that was billowing towards them. “I’m getting reports from the boats – sir, the breathing apparatus, it’s no good! We have to abort!”

But before Jack could reply, Teal’c darted past them, hurled himself off the edge of the riverbank and plummeted into the water.

“Teal’c!” Jack yelled, before turning back to Sam: “What is he _doing_?”

“He must be trying to force it ashore. Daniel said it won’t survive long out of water.”

“He also said it hunts on land! You’re right, we gotta evacuate. Give the order, Colonel.”

“Yessir.” Turning her back on the river, she issued instructions to those who were closest, and they hurried to organise the retreat. Just as she was about to warn everyone else of the evacuation over the radio, a voice she had not been expecting interrupted her

“Sam!” it exclaimed, coming in loud through the earpiece, as though it was shouting.

“Daniel?” Sam asked, casting a confused look around. “Where are you?”

“On the bridge,” Daniel replied – and sure enough, when she looked up, she could see him waving frantically. “Sam, listen, you have to get these people out of here – _now_.”

“We know,” Sam replied. “It’s being done. What are you...?”

There was a crash of water behind her; Sam spun around to see two figures shrouded in smoke, struggling close to the riverbank. Both she and Jack raised their guns instinctively but did not fire: in the thrashing confusion of bodies and water, it was impossible to distinguish between the alien and Teal’c.

Abruptly the two bodies separated, thrust apart by some unseen force. The smoke began to thicken again, but before it obscured the river completely they saw the creature they had previously captured, rising from the depths of the river. It emerged behind Teal’c, and before the Jaffa could turn to defend himself it had flung him clean out of the water. He crashed down in the mud at the foot of the bridge. Sam hurried towards him.

“Everybody get down!” Jack bellowed, producing a grenade from his vest pocket. Sam crouched over Teal’c’s motionless body to protect it from the blast, her arms over her head; and then she was deafened by noise. Foul-smelling water sluiced over her as the river surged and dragged her with it from the bank.

**End of Part 7.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack wants answers.

The blast was hot and close. Jack threw himself onto the ground as soon as the grenade left his hand; heard the explosion and the angry roar of the water; felt the raw heat on his back, and hoped he had done it.

The wave of heat dissipated and he looked up in time to glimpse the final wisps of alien smoke being consumed by flame. It left the air heavy with the smell of burning, but otherwise it looked clear. The boats were breaking formation, finally making their escape further down the river, which was brown with churned up silt from the river bed. Jack pulled up his aching body and forced it to run towards the bridge.

He found Teal’c, soaked from the river, lying limply in the mud. Sam was nowhere to be seen. Trying to ignore the clawing sensation of panic in the pit of his stomach, Jack crouched down beside Teal’c to check his vital signs.

“C’mon, buddy,” he murmured, placing one hand on Teal’c’s chest and another against the side of his neck. “That’s it – keep breathing.”

He heard a splash and some coughing and swivelled towards the sound.

“Carter? Carter!”

She was struggling out of the water a few metres away, dripping from head to toe and covered in mud. Her oxygen mask hung uselessly around her neck, getting in the way as she tried to pull herself out of the river. Hurrying towards her, he reached for her arms and hauled her up onto the bank.

“You have _got_ stop doing that to me!” he told her, clutching her shoulders as she caught her breath. “That’s twice in as many days you’ve almost given me a heart-attack.”

Sam gave him a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Never mind that. Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” she replied, though she looked shaken. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Sam,” he said, “I need to know what’s on the scope.”

That seemed to rouse her out of shock; she nodded and reached into her combat vest pocket. The handheld screen, though wet, had been protected by its waterproof casing, and Jack watched the expression of keen concentration on her face as she took a moment to take in the readings.

At last she raised her eyes to him and smiled. “Trace amounts of naquadah in the surrounding area. You should check with radar, but I’m pretty sure we blew them to pieces, sir.”

He smiled back at her and helped her to her feet, only to find her frowning at something over his shoulder. He turned just as she called, “Teal’c?”

Teal’c didn’t respond. He was running up the riverbank with great strides, heading for the road that led onto the Memorial Bridge.

“Go,” Jack said. Sam nodded and took off after him.

*

Mitchell cautiously removed the helmet of his hazmat suit and took a tentative breath. The smoke was gone now, disappearing with the explosion that had pushed all the boats further out from the riverbank. At first, he and his men had remained within the confines of their suits, trying to catch their breath; now, Mitchell smiled and said,

“It’s alright, boys. Air’s breathable.”

Around him, the rest of the soldiers pulled off their helmets and began the kind of nervous banter that is ever exchanged by people who have just miraculously survived extreme peril.

His radio crackled and he heard O’Neill’s voice. “Mitchell, report?”

Mitchell answered, “Still here, sir. It was a close one, but all marine units managed to withdraw. No casualties reported as yet, General. I think we got away with it.”

“Yes, well, I’d rather put an end to the speculation. What do you see on radar?”

“Just checking now, sir. Stand by.”

Mitchell climbed the ladder up to the helm. There, two brave members of the crew had remained to pilot the boat away from danger, surviving just long enough by sealing the doors. Now, seeing it was safe to open them again, one of the men let Mitchell inside. He gave them a word of thanks and looked at the screens.

There was nothing on radar. They were safe.

*

When Teal’c’s mind had risen from unconsciousness, it had repeated to him the last words he had heard before hitting the ground:

_I found your goddess, Jaffa. Why did you not tell me her name was Qetesh?_

And he had opened his eyes, inexplicably knowing both the location and condition of Vala Mal Doran.

Now, he reached the top of the slope and turned a sharp angle onto the road, his boots pounding against the concrete and leaving muddy footprints as he hurried towards where Vala lay. Daniel was kneeling beside her, trying to wake her. He looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“I don’t know what happened,” he said, sounding afraid and confused. “She just collapsed.” 

Then Sam appeared, and Teal’c was startled to see that she, like him, was drenched in mud. She crouched down at Vala’s side. “Daniel?”

“I don’t know!” he said again. “She was quiet for a while and then she fell. I caught her on the way down but she won’t wake up.”

Teal’c watched as Sam wordlessly checked Vala’s heartbeat and breathing, feeling the temperature of her skin and checking for head wounds. Then she looked at the two men anxiously watching her and said, “I think she’s going to be alright. Teal’c, help me get her into the recovery position. Daniel, call an ambulance.”

*

When Vala woke up, it was not to the glaring, clinical white of a Washington hospital, but the much more familiar grey ceiling of the SGC infirmary. She blinked until the lights above her came into focus, then tried to make sense of the voices that surrounded her. She smiled slightly when she heard Teal’c speak, because if he could speak that meant he was still alive.

She turned her head towards the talking and said, “On most worlds it’s considered creepy to watch a girl sleep.”

The conversation stopped and they all smiled at her. Cameron, Daniel and Sam were gathered around her; Teal’c was on the next bed, lying fully clothed on top of the covers. She smiled back at them.

“In our defence,” replied Daniel, “you’re the one who decided to go all unconscious on us for ten hours.”

“Only ten?” yawned Vala. “Guess I should go back to dreamland...”

“Not so fast, Vala,” Mitchell told her. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

“General O’Neill wants us up in the briefing room as soon as you’re ready,” Sam added to Vala, giving her arm a squeeze. “It’s good to see you awake.”

“It’s good to _be_ awake,” Vala replied happily. “Tell General O’Neill I’ll be up in ten.”

At that moment Dr. Lam, hearing Vala’s voice and coming to investigate, said, “Ah-ah – I’m not letting you go just yet. We have some tests to do now that you’re finally awake.”

Vala sent an appealing glance at her team-mates, but Lam continued, “An hour. Then you can have your debriefing.”

“An hour it is!” Daniel agreed with a cheerful smile.

“Hey,” Vala protested as her team-mates began to leave, “wait...!”

“You know the drill, Vala,” Mitchell told her on his way out. “See you in an hour!”

Vala pouted and looked towards Teal’c, who was still lying on the adjacent bed. “Well I guess it’s just you and me, Muscles.”

“Actually, Teal’c, you’re free to leave,” Dr. Lam said, much to Vala’s dismay. Teal’c gave a grateful head-nod, swung himself up from the bed, and strode off after his teammates. Vala cast an uncertain in Dr. Lam’s direction, and pulled the bed covers up to her chin.

*

“What I don’t understand,” said O’Neill when the entire team of SG-1 was finally assembled in the briefing room, “is how the darn thing got out.”

Vala looked guiltily up at the ceiling. “I... may have told the guards to leave the room when I went to interrogate it,” she replied. “When I let it go on thinking I was still Qetesh, it went berserk and... ran away.”

“Daniel?” O’Neill prompted, looking incredulously at his friend. Daniel shrugged.

“By the time the rest of us had figured out what had happened, he had broken out of the facility,” he answered. O’Neill frowned at him.

“It was very fast,” said Vala.

“Very,” agreed Daniel.

“Turns out, this alien – Smoyi – well...” Vala hesitated. “He and Qetesh had a kind of thing. A ‘trading assassination attempts’ kind of thing.”

“Smoyi came to hunt the Goa’uld that attacked you and Sam at the restaurant,” Daniel explained. He paused for a brief moment before adding: “Speaking of which... what were you two doing at a restaurant, anyway?”

He gave them what could have been a mildly suspicious look. O’Neill stared back at him.

“Eating, Daniel,” he replied, deadpan, as Sam adopted a similar, nonplussed expression. Jack continued, “Now _why_ would they come all the way to our fair planet just to have an underwater wrestling match?”

“They didn’t,” Daniel answered, quickly forgetting the distraction. “The Goa’uld probably came here to establish itself in Earth. Smoyi came here to stop it.”

“And why would ‘Smoyi’ even care?” O’Neill enquired. It was Sam who answered.

“If the Goa’uld found the resources it needed on Earth, it might return to Eunasta and rule just like Qetesh did.” She glanced towards Vala, who nodded in confirmation.

“Exactly.”

“Okay, so it escaped,” O’Neill resumed, reluctantly looking away from Sam back towards Daniel and Vala. “Why didn’t you call for back-up?”

“There wasn’t time,” Daniel answered quickly. “Besides, Vala thought that more soldiers would just provoke Smoyi into attacking us instead of the Goa’uld. We didn’t want to distract him from heading straight into the trap at the river.”

“Some members of Smoyi’s race have mild psychic abilities,” Vala explained matter-of-factly to the group. “He kept the link with my mind open so he could keep an eye on where I was. I knew that if I could goad him towards the river he would go.”

“We managed to arrive at the bridge just ahead of him,” Daniel added. “I was just about to warn Sam when Smoyi attacked Teal’c and threw him out of the water.” He glanced over at the stoic Jaffa, who nodded slowly in acknowledgement. “There was an explosion and then... Vala collapsed.”

All eyes turned to Vala. She turned ever so slightly pink and said, “My mind was still connected to Smoyi. I suppose when the link got severed, it was too abrupt for me to handle.”

O’Neill raised his eyebrows and looked towards Sam for verification. “Carter?”

“It’s possible, sir,” she replied. “The mind is a fragile thing. If Vala _was_ subjected to some kind of mental connection with the alien creature, its sudden death could certainly have been a shock to her system.”

O’Neill gave a slow, contemplative nod before turning to Mitchell for his report. Daniel and Vala exchanged relieved looks; Teal’c sat silently, hands clasped on the briefing room table, his fears allayed. He had not been the only one to hear the alien’s thoughts. It had not been his weakness that had led it to the river; his teammates had intended it. And their plan had worked.

*

“I guess I could suggest a compromise,” Sam remarked to Teal’c as they strolled side-by-side through the SGC corridors. The briefing had ended a few minutes before; the rest of the team had dispersed, leaving Teal’c to enquire about Sam’s decision regarding her future. Presently, he looked at her and said:

“How so?”

“Well, becoming second-in-command of the SGC wouldn’t necessarily preclude the possibility of going offworld occasionally – if SG-1 were to be assigned a mission involving the use of new technology, for instance.”

She glanced at Teal’c for his reaction. His features softened into a slight smile and he said, warmly, “Indeed.”

Sam smiled back at him. It would be good to return to SG-1 and yet still have the chance to engage in her own research on the base: the best of both worlds.

“Considering future plans, Colonel?” asked a voice from behind them. They turned.

“Mr. Woolsey,” Sam responded, trying to make her greeting sound as pleasant as possible. Teal’c, on the other hand, had no such qualms about being impolite: he gave Woolsey a cold stare, causing the smaller man to take a startled step backwards.

Sam said: “It’s alright, Teal’c. Why don’t you go on up to my lab?”

Teal’c gave her a gracious bow of the head, very deliberately turned his back on Woolsey, and continued down the corridor. The other two watched him until he had disappeared around the corner.

“So,” Sam resumed, trying to force the conversation onwards, “when are you heading out?”

“The Daedalus is leaving in...” Woolsey checked his watch. “Two hours and thirty-six minutes. I’m due to leave the SGC after today’s check-in from Atlantis.”

“Ah.”

There was a difficult pause. Woolsey looked anxious, and Sam suspected that his nerves were not simply the result of their strained conversation. She recalled what it had been like the day she had embarked for Atlantis – the excitement and the sorrow and the fear – and felt her resentment melting away.

“You’re going to do fine, Mr. Woolsey,” she said at last. He looked at her, surprised; she continued: “You’ll have good people out there, better than any commander could ask for. I know it’s daunting – it’s not exactly the kind of thing you can prepare for. Let’s face it, no-one is really qualified for the job you’re going to do, but...”

“I think we both know, don’t we, Colonel,” Woolsey interrupted, speaking softly, “that there _is_ someone who is qualified for this position, and, well, I’m talking to her.” Sam dropped her gaze for a second, and then gave him a grateful nod. He continued, “But I appreciate what you’re trying to do. Not many people would have any sympathy for me if they were in your position.”

 “Maybe not,” Sam conceded, “but the fact is, I have to trust you with the people on Atlantis. For that I need you to trust yourself.”

He looked back at her helplessly. “And if I can’t?”

“Then trust _them_, Mr. Woolsey,” she told him firmly. “Your team is all you really have out there.”

Woolsey nodded thoughtfully, and Sam was relieved that he understood. She knew he would learn very quickly that, in a place like Atlantis, rules and regulations were rarely dependable. Much more important were the courage and experience of those around.

“I was going to inform Colonel Sheppard of the leadership situation during today’s check-in,” Woolsey told her, “but now I come to think of it... perhaps you might like to speak to him instead. I think... I think it might be better, coming from you.”

Sam smiled slightly at his gesture of kindness. “Thank you,” she said, and he nodded to her before beginning to walk away. She called him back. “Mr. Woolsey?”

He turned, a quizzical expression on his face. She concluded: “Take care of them for me.”

“I will,” he said; and she silently prayed that, if nothing else, he would be able to keep that promise.

*

Having completed the briefing and reported back to his superiors at the Pentagon, Jack thought that he could be excused for feeling just a little pleased with himself. The threat had been neutralised, the cover story was holding, and he had been in command of SG-1 again – just for a couple of days. That was all he needed: just a little adventure now and again. Preferably without getting trapped in another galaxy.

He rounded the corner and the door to Sam’s lab came into sight. Maybe now would be a good time to start planning that fishing trip. They might have to wait a few weeks, of course – the IOA had rescheduled Sam’s evaluation to later in the month, and they still had the Tok’ra extraction ceremony to attend – but once all that was over and done with, they could pack up and head for Minnesota.

Jack smiled to himself as he arrived at the lab and stepped inside.

“Oh, hey, Teal’c,” he said, seeing the Jaffa sitting on a stool by the door. “I was just looking for–”

“Colonel Carter is being detained by Mr. Woolsey,” Teal’c told him. “She should be arriving shortly.”

“Right,” said O’Neill, not sure how else to respond. “Well... I guess I’ll wait, then.”

There was something in Teal’c’s manner that made Jack slightly nervous, but he was unable to pin down exactly what it was. The feeling intensified a moment later, however, when Teal’c slowly swivelled around on his stool to face him.

“I wish to know your intentions towards Colonel Carter,” he said.

The remark was so bizarre and unexpected that Jack almost laughed out loud. The severity of Teal’c’s gaze prevented him, so he simply said, “Ex_cuse_ me?”

“I must warn you, O’Neill,” Teal’c continued, “that though we are as brothers, I will not permit you to trifle with her affections. I must ensure that you have her best interests at heart.”

For Jack, the humour had drained out of the conversation as quickly as it had come.

“Teal’c,” he said. “You know I do.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c agreed. “Then I shall say no more on the matter.”

“Thank you.”

Silence filled the room. Jack allowed his gaze to roam the inactive computers and tightly-packed boxes that currently occupied the lab. A minute passed; Jack glanced towards the door. Sam was nowhere to be seen.

Teal’c spoke again. “Do you intend to marry her, O’Neill?”

“Hey! What happened to not continuing this conversation?”

“Very well,” Teal’c replied, inclining his head in what Jack took to be an apology. “I shall not speak of it.”

“Good.”

“For now.”

“Stop it!”

Teal’c fell silent, amusement in his eyes. Jack scowled at him.

“If this is what it’s going to be like,” he muttered, “I can’t _wait_ till we go public.”

**End of Part 8.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the help of her friends, Sam begins to come to terms with her reassignment and officially returns to her old team.

When the Stargate activated with an incoming wormhole from the Pegasus Galaxy, it was accompanied by the usual commotion of flashing lights and defence teams readying themselves in the Gate Room. Sam hurried up the steps that led into the Control Room in time to hear John Sheppard’s voice say:

“Stargate Command, this is Atlantis checking in. Our latest batch of reports should be coming in via the data-burst now.”

Sheppard’s face occupied a number of screens, waiting for a response. Smiling at the familiarity of his expression, Sam slid into a vacant seat and activated the video link on the computer.

“We read you loud and clear, Atlantis.”

“Colonel,” Sheppard answered, clearly surprised to see her. “IOA evaluation done already?”

“Not exactly,” Sam replied, keeping her tone light in spite of herself. “How are things on your end?”

“Data-burst received,” the Gate technician next to her reported.

“Oh, you know,” Sheppard replied, shrugging. “Ticking over. Personally, I find it a daily struggle – but I get by. Mostly by avoiding McKay as much as possible.”

Sam grinned; she had seen McKay passing behind Sheppard on the screen, and knew Sheppard was trying to provoke him. McKay’s attention had been on the tablet computer he held in his hands; on overhearing this jibe, however, he looked up and demanded,

“You’ve been avoiding me? I knew it–” He stopped, becoming aware of who Sheppard was talking to. “Sam!” he exclaimed, approaching the screen. “Can you please tell Colonel Unhelpful here that as acting leader of the base he has to pay attention to me?”

“Only in so far as you’re giving useful advice, McKay,” Sam told him. “Anything else is purely optional.”

Sheppard sent McKay a smug smile before turning back to the screen. “So how’s the vacation going, Colonel?”

The genial expression fell from Sam’s face as she replied, “That’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about. Rodney, don’t go yet – I want you to hear this, too. Turns out, my return to Earth was never going to be a vacation. It’s permanent.”

Sheppard and McKay exchanged bewildered looks. Sheppard said, “We’re not following.”

Sam sighed. “The IOA have asked me to step down as leader of the Atlantis Expedition.”

There was a stunned silence. “But you said no, right?” Rodney replied. “I mean, if they just _asked_ you to, you refused, right?”

Sam shook her head. “I’m sorry, Rodney. They didn’t give me a choice. Your new commander is already on his way.”

Gravely, Sheppard asked: “Who is it?”

Sam pursed her lips before replying, “Richard Woolsey.”

They stared at her until Sheppard managed: “You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

Sam looked at them both, feeling the sadness settling once again on her shoulders. She rallied herself and answered, “I know what you’re both thinking, but he’s a good man. He just has a lot to learn.”

“This is crazy,” McKay protested. “Can’t we, I don’t know, appeal or something?”

Sam shook her head. “The decision has been made. Mr. Woolsey leaves on the Daedalus today. That gives you three weeks to prepare for his arrival.”

“Prepare–?” McKay began.

“Yes, Rodney. This is going to be a big change for Atlantis, and I don’t want our people getting caught out by this. Woolsey will no doubt arrive with his own style of leadership; you need to be ready to accept it.”

“Colonel...” Sheppard began, and Sam got the impression that he was choosing his words very carefully. “I’m not sure how easy it will be for people to accept Woolsey’s authority.”

“I know,” Sam replied. “That’s why I need both of you to present this news to the general population in the best possible terms.”

“The best possible terms?” repeated McKay, outraged. “Sam, have you forgotten who we’re talking about here? We don’t need _Woolsey_ to run Atlantis; we need you!”

Sam couldn’t help a sad smile. “I appreciate that, Rodney – really. And if I could come back, I would. But the fact is, Mr. Woolsey is your new leader, and he’s going to need the support of each and every one of you.”

“But–”

“Please, Rodney. Just give him a chance – if not for his sake, then for mine.”

McKay opened his mouth to protest further, but Sheppard cut him off. “We’ll do it,” he said.

Sam nodded. “Thank you. I’d also like you to pass along a message to everyone, expressing my regret that I couldn’t say goodbye to you all in person. I’ll put it into an e-mail and send it via a data-burst at the next check-in, along with messages for heads of department and a few others.”

She paused for their response, but they made no reaction. She continued,

“John, Woolsey will be in charge, but it’ll be up to you to ensure people follow his orders – especially military personnel. And, I’m afraid, to do that you’re going to have to lead by example, however much you disagree with the decision.”

Sheppard gave a dutiful, if reluctant, nod. “Right.”

Sam added, “If you work with him from the beginning, he’ll be much more likely to listen to your advice. He’ll need it – from both of you.”

McKay shook his head despairingly. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”

“I know,” Sam replied. “I’m sorry it had to be this way... but try not to see it as a bad thing. Woolsey will have a new viewpoint to bring to the expedition; I’m sure you can learn a lot from him, if you give him a chance.”

“Not as much as we learnt from you,” replied McKay, ruefully. Sheppard glanced at him and then said,

“We’ll miss you, Colonel, but don’t worry. We’ll take care of everything here; Woolsey or no Woolsey, this is still Atlantis.”

“Yes, it is,” Sam agreed, a proud smile rising to her lips. “And you’re still the best of the best. Don’t forget it.”

McKay mumbled, “Well, I kinda knew that already but...”

“She means everyone, McKay,” Sheppard interrupted.

“I know,” McKay replied. “But by everyone she really means _me_.”

Sam watched their exchange with amusement and sadness in equal measure. When they had fallen silent, she concluded:

“Thank you – both of you – for everything. I’ll send those e-mails as soon as I can.”

“Right,” acknowledged Sheppard. “We’ll, uh... have the rest of your stuff shipped back to you in a couple of days.”

Sam nodded her thanks. There was a brief pause.

“This is really goodbye, then, isn’t it?” said Rodney.

“For now,” Sam conceded.

Sheppard answered: “Take care of yourself, Sam.”

“You, too. Goodbye, John.”

“Keep in touch!” Rodney added desperately.

Smiling, Sam replied, “Bye, McKay.”

“Bye,” McKay answered, and his voice sounded smaller than she had ever heard it.

The Stargate shut down.

Sam felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She quickly wiped away the tears that had sprung to her eyes and turned to see who was behind her. It was Cameron.

“Good job, Sam,” he said gently. “That can’t have been easy.”

She sighed. “No. But at least I had the chance to tell them what they needed to hear. I just hope they’ll listen.”

“They will,” Mitchell told her. “They respect you too much not to.”

She nodded, hoping he was right.

“Come on,” he continued. “We’ve all been given downtime until the extraction ceremony in a couple of days. We might as well make the most of it. And, come to think of it, we haven’t even had chance to celebrate having you back. Team drinks – just you, me, Vala, Daniel and Teal’c. Whaddya say?”

Sam smiled. “Sounds great,” she said, and got up from her seat.

“One more thing,” Cameron said. She watched him curiously as he pulled something out of his pocket: her SG-1 patch. He held it out towards her, and she received it as though it were a prize gift.

“I knew you’d come back for it eventually,” he said.

“Always will,” Sam replied.

*

“Good morning, Colonels,” greeted Davis formally as four members of SG-1 passed him in the corridor two days later.

“Major,” Mitchell acknowledged with a nod, leading the way as he, Sam, Daniel and Teal’c strode towards the Gate Room. They were dressed in desert gear, P90s in their hands. When they arrived, General Landry handed a clipboard back to Sergeant Siler and called up to the Control Room:

“Dial it up, Chief – they’re right on schedule.”

Walter obliged and the Stargate began to spin. Siler approached Mitchell with the clipboard and handed him a pen.

“What am I signing this time?” enquired Mitchell, placing his signature on the dotted line. Sam peered over his shoulder curiously.

“Nothing, sir,” Siler replied. “Just wanted your autograph.”

Mitchell looked up at him and handed back the pen. Not sure whether to be amused or worried, Sam watched Siler leave as Mitchell turned to Landry and said, “You sure you don’t want to come along, sir? Might never be another one of these.”

“Tempting as it is,” Landry replied, “I’ll be doing paperwork the whole time you’re gone. Besides, one general looking over your shoulders is plenty.”

He glanced at Sam, who smiled. Daniel said,

“Yes, speaking of Jack...”

“He went ahead with SG-3 to officially hand over the prisoner.”

Sam nodded. “Well, I guess he knows who we’re dealing with.”

“Such precautions are unnecessary,” Teal’c remarked with some satisfaction. “Half of the free Jaffa fleet stands guard over the Tok’ra homeworld to ensure that the execution of Ba’al takes place as planned.”

At that moment, Vala entered the Gate Room, also in desert gear, carrying the largest gun any of them had ever seen. “You know better than anyone, Muscles,” she admonished, “this is an _extraction_, not an execution.”

In the background, Walter reported, “Chevron three encoded.”

There was a brief pause as the rest of SG-1 stared at Vala’s gun. She stared back at them for a second before answering, “Oh, well, this is just in case.”

“No,” said Mitchell. “No, no. Airman.”

A nearby guard approached as Mitchell took the gun forcibly out of Vala’s hands. “You’re not walking into my first extraction ceremony carrying that thing,” Mitchell said, handing the weapon to the guard.

“Woah, wait a minute,” said Daniel. “This is your first?”

Casually, Mitchell replied, “Yeah. It should be interesting.”

“It’ll blow your _mind_,” Landry answered emphatically.

“It is pretty incredible,” Sam agreed, nodding.

“Huh, well, witnessing a Goa’uld being extracted from a host is one thing,” Vala said. “Actually _experiencing_ it is something else.”

Walter continued to announce the chevrons from the Control Room as Vala began a long and contemplative description of the process of extraction. When she finally finished (“...that,” she concluded, “is incredible”), the seventh chevron locked: a vortex erupted in the centre of the Stargate’s ring, illuminating the Gate room with shimmering light.

“Go to it, SG-1,” Landry ordered.

Mitchell stepped towards the ramp. “Okay. This I gotta see.”

Landry smiled. “I’ll leave the light on,” he said, as the five members of SG-1 approached the event horizon of a stable wormhole and stepped through to another planet.

*

“I guess that was worth seeing,” said Mitchell, after the hours of chanting were finally over and the last Goa’uld system lord was lying lifeless in a pool of liquid on the floor. He sounded unimpressed.

The others looked at him. “What?” Daniel asked. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Well, you guys made it out like it was this big deal. I expected something more spectacular.”

“Nope,” O’Neill replied. “That’s pretty much the extraction ceremony, right there.” He mumbled something to himself before adding, “So, lunch, anyone?” When no-one responded – not even Sam – he continued, “I’m buying.”

“I’m in,” Mitchell answered immediately.

“Actually, sir,” Sam said, falling into step beside Jack as the team began to make their way out of the pyramid. “I was hoping that we could go over the plans for the new moon base.”

He glanced at her. “What moon base?”

She grinned.

**End of Part 9.**


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finally gets her chance to tell the IOA just how much respect the people on Atlantis deserve.

“And finally,” said Ms Minsk, looking shrewdly at Sam across the desk, “while it is not directly related to your command on Atlantis, this panel feels that the manner in which you have handled your re-assignment warrants formal recognition. Mr. Woolsey specifically requested that a note of commendation be passed on to your superiors for your obvious dedication to the success of the Atlantis Expedition.”

“Thank you,” Sam replied, surprised, and Ms Minsk nodded curtly. Next to her, a bespectacled man who reminded Sam slightly of Daniel cast a warm smile around the room and said

“Well, I think that’s it from us. Do you have any final remarks, Colonel Carter? For the record, I mean?”

“Yes, Mr. Zimmerman.” Sam glanced down at her prepared final statement. “As I’m sure you will all agree, the Atlantis Expedition represents a vital investment – not only in the defence of Earth against the Wraith, but also in the advancement of our own self-understanding and, ultimately, in the development of humankind in this galaxy. Atlantis should therefore be made a priority for all those involved in its oversight and administration.

“I also want to make sure it goes down on record that every member of that Expedition deserves our full backing – not just because of the significance of this mission, but because we call on them to go above and beyond the call of duty on a daily basis, and they do it every time. Anything less than our total support loses us the right to ask them to keep doing what they do.”

“We agree, Colonel,” replied Minsk, coolly. “That is exactly the reason why we have sent our best man for the job.”

“To continue your good work,” added the chairman of the panel. “Despite the few instances which have since been satisfactorily dealt with over the course of this evaluation, your leadership on Atlantis exceeded expectations – with the thwarting of the Wraith on several occasions, the recovery of team members from enemy hands and, most of all, the defeat of the Replicators.” He smiled at her. “Well, you can see why a military commander is no longer required to lead what is, ultimately, a civilian enterprise.”

“As we have indicated,” Minsk said, “Mr. Woolsey is more suited to the present situation on Atlantis. We do, of course, acknowledge your contribution over the past year, though we should make it clear that you are no longer to concern yourself with Atlantis affairs, or offer advice of any kind regarding the Expedition to those still engaged in the mission, unless specifically called upon to do so by your superiors. Is that clear?”

Sam gave a wholly insincere smile. “Perfectly.”

“Good,” said the chairman, “then I think we can formally close this evaluation. Thank for your time, Colonel. All the best for the future.”

The panel members began to gather up their files; Sam did the same. As she stood up to leave, Zimmerman approached her and said: “Out of interest, Colonel, what are you going to do now?”

Sam looked back at him a twinkle in her eye. “Mr. Zimmerman,” she said, “I’m going fishing.”

*

Night had fallen by the time they had arrived at Jack’s cabin. For miles they had driven along isolated Minnesotan roads, the sun gradually disappearing behind the trees until the magnificent colours of evening darkened into black. When they got there, they had unloaded the car and set the table for dinner. Jack had cooked, badly, and Sam had informed him that she would be giving him cookery lessons from now on.

The meal now over, Jack stepped out of his cabin into cold, still air, fishing rods in hand. He looked up; the stars shone unhindered above him, shepherded by a silver-white moon that passed lazily behind drifting clouds. He was once again reminded why he loved this place so much: he might as well have taken a plane from Washington D.C. to an entirely different planet.

He smiled to himself. He had been looking forward to this trip ever since Sam’s return three and a half weeks ago; now, after the mission in Washington, the extraction ceremony and the completion of Sam’s long, exhausting IOA evaluation, they were finally here.

He strode onto the little wooden platform on the edge of the lake and set up the rods. Other than the yellow light that slanted onto the water from the windows of the cabin, the clearing was almost entirely in monochrome; the only other light was from the moon. Heavy shadows lined the trees, but he didn’t fear what lay behind them: he always felt safe here. He paused to gaze across the water, which shimmered under the endless sky.

He heard movement behind him and remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He ducked under the shelter of the nearby trees and emerged with a backless wooden bench just as Sam reached the edge of the lake.

“I found the blankets,” she said.

“Great. On here.” He set the bench down on the platform. Sam covered it with one of the blankets as Jack retrieved the fishing rods; they cast their lines and sat in silence for a while, side-by-side.

“Fishing under the stars,” Sam mused at last, glancing upwards. Jack followed her gaze.

“Has a kind of ring to it,” he said, and gave her a sly look. “I suppose you think this is another date.”

“Yep,” Sam replied, happily. “A weekend-long date. A _cold_ weekend-long date.”

“Hey, if you wanna go back inside...”

She shook her head. “It might be cold, but it’s still beautiful.”

He smiled in satisfaction, picked up a spare blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She hugged the material close to her and leaned into him.

“So, uh... I had a weird conversation with Teal’c a while ago,” he said.

“He wasn’t asking for his own hat budget again, was he?” Sam grinned.

“Oh, no, I already put a stop to that. I said: ‘T, the Air Force just isn’t willing to fork out any more tax-payers’ dollars on your headwear. Quit asking me.’”

Sam chuckled. “How did he react?”

“Are you kidding?” Jack replied. “He sulked for a week. And then Mitchell showed him how to use eBay, and now he’s constantly bidding for ridiculous headgear. I’m telling you, he’s hooked.”

Sam reeled in her line a little way, but not completely. The sound of the reel seemed loud in the quietness of the night.

“So what was the weird conversation?” she asked.

“Hm?”

“The weird conversation you had with Teal’c.”

“Oh. Right.” It had taken place a while ago now – shortly after the whole aliens-in-Washington incident – but it had been playing on his mind ever since. He glanced at her, suddenly unsure of her reaction. “He... asked me what my intentions were towards you.”

Sam laughed, much to his relief.

“Jaffa humour, I guess,” he continued, smiling now, “although he did have me worried there for a while.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Sam replied, grinning. “It’s nice he cares so much, though – for both of us. And I know that Dad would have wanted somebody to do it on his behalf; he would’ve loved to have subjected you to one of his fatherly warning speeches.”

“Like he didn’t do that already,” Jack smiled. Sam chuckled.

“Yeah.” They fell quiet, remembering a time when Jacob had still been with them. Readjusting his grip on his fishing rod, Jack reeled in his line before casting it back out in one fluid motion. It came down in the middle of the lake with a gentle splash.

“He wanted this to happen, you know,” Sam told him, her eyes on the ripples in the water.

“‘This’?” Jack asked.

“Us.”

“Ah.” Jack paused for a moment, and then turned his head to look at her. “_Really_?”

“Yeah.” Sam smiled again, though this time it didn’t last. “It’s funny, really. He saw right through my relationship with Pete; I could fool myself, but not him.”

“Yes, well...” Jack mumbled, glancing away. She took hold of his hand, and reluctantly he looked back towards her.

She said, softly: “The one person I wanted I couldn’t have, so I was trying to make do.” She squeezed his hand briefly and shook her head. “That wasn’t good enough for Dad. I realised, then: even though I’d given up all hope of us ever being together... I couldn’t commit to being with anyone else. There was still you, Jack; there was always you.”

She gazed at him in that determined, penetrating way that always unleashed something so unbearable inside of him: the sheer rawness of his feelings for her, rooted so deep as to be inseparable from his very core. He tried to think of life without her, and met only with blank thoughts.

She looked so beautiful in the moonlight, and so sad. Her gaze had wandered away, distracted by the water and her own mysterious thoughts. Her hair moved minutely in a breath of cold air.

“Sorry,” Sam said, smiling gently again. “All I meant to say was, I’m glad Teal’c had that conversation with you, even if it was a little weird...”

“Marry me,” he said.

She looked up at him, startled, her eyes reflecting the stars.

He said it again: “Marry me.”

“Jack...”

“Hey, I know I’m not much. I know I don’t understand half of what you say. But the fact is I’ve always loved you – for more than a decade, I have loved you. Ever since we met we’ve been putting all that aside, doing our jobs, pretending. Well, I don’t feel like pretending anymore. So marry me.”

“Jack.” She reached for his hand. He was so dominated by the fear that she might say no that he was intensely confused to see her smiling.

“You only had to ask me once,” she said. He continued to stare at her, so she added, “I was going to say yes.”

The world snapped back into focus. “You were?”

She looked at him pityingly. “We finally got our chance, Jack. I’m not letting it go.”

He stared at her, speechless. He recalled the moment she had confessed her love for him in the darkness of an alien ship above Atlantis, and realised that this was better: this was certain. This wasn’t a moment birthed from hurt and longing, but from hope and contentment. Responding in words was simply not enough.

So, with relief and gratitude and disbelief and elation, he kissed her.

And the moon was bright above them, and the stars burned like white fire; and the cold winter air was visible on the surface of the lake, like smoke on the water.

**THE END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for Smoke on the Water! If you'd like to read more and haven't already, please check out the prequel (Smokescreen) - and keep an eye out for the next in the series, 'Fire in the Sky.'
> 
> If you've read this far and have something to say about it, I would love to hear your feedback. Thanks!


End file.
